


Miracle Aligner

by thehiltster



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Ice Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:31:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9053434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehiltster/pseuds/thehiltster
Summary: Set post-season 1, Viktor and Yuri begin to build a life together surrounding their new situation. With the next season on the horizon, they must work both together and against one another as coach and student, competitors and lovers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest fic I've started and I really want to finish it coz I hate leaving things unfinished !!! I felt like it was suitable to upload this fic today! Happy Birthday Victor!  
> Anyhow, enjoy amigos xx

Their steps were slow as they pondered the events of the Grand Prix Final; slow and almost dragging. Yuuri didn’t want to go home, and leave it all behind. He felt uneasy, unfinished even with Victor beside him, matching his lagging strides. The grey carpet and glass corridor only aided in draining Yuuri of energy. As much as he wanted to see his family and friends back home, he didn’t want to go just yet. He didn’t want to answer their questions: “Why is Victor still here?”, “Why aren’t you celebrating?” He brought his suitcase to a stop.  
  
“Victor,” he paused as the man in question turned to face him, “do we have to go back to Hasetsu immediately?” Victor tilted his head.  
  
“Of course not, where would you like to go instead?” he stepped toward Yuuri, protectively. Anyone from the press could be waiting around the corner and for some reason he felt like Yuuri didn’t want to be seen this exhausted. Victor wanted to protect him from prying eyes.  
“Somewhere quiet,” Yuuri replied softly, so softly that only Victor would have heard.Victor took in the slopes of Yuuri’s shoulders: hunched forwards, his hair untidy from the plane ride and dark rings softening the skin under his eyes. He was tired, that much was evident, and the glazing over his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept on the plane as Victor had supposed.  
  
“Somewhere quiet?” Victor repeated, a hint of an idea brewing. “Sure, let’s go.” He concluded, and without another word took Yuuri’s bag from him. He walked off with a contaminated skip in his step, and called back to his dazed partner to keep up.

The late winter snow was falling softly. As they waited for a free taxi Victor watched the flakes intently. Each one was different, but ultimately the same.  
“The snow here is different from that in Russia.” He commented. Yuuri shuffled forwards on the bench and rested a cheek on Victor’s shoulder in response, almost as a homesickness deterrent. It was true that the snow was colder and harsher in Russia. When it fell it was beautiful but treacherous. It was unrelenting and unforgiving. Yuuri recalled the first time he saw the snow in Russia, the cold shine and the slow power of the snow reminded him of Victor’s eyes and his unrestrainable determination to win, and get what he wanted. The snow in Japan was very different by comparison: it wasn’t destructive to the delicate cherry blossoms which lined the avenues. It fell softly, not as an overpowering force, but rather as a blanket comforting and welcoming. In some ways it was ironic: in the way that Victor skated, he was powerful and unstoppable whereas Yuuri made the ice his home and became one with the music and skate as opposed to controlling and manipulating the ice. Victor blew out a steady puff of breath in a cloud of condensation. They watched it rise until it dissipated and the crisp silence of the snowy weather engulfed them.

The honk of a car brought them out of their comfortable silence. They stood, and Victor guided Yuuri before himself with a hand on the small of his back. The warmth radiating from Yuuri seemed to seep through his coat.  
  
“Hello, how are you?” the driver greeted as he stepped out of the car.  
  
“Hi! I’m very well, thank you. Yourself?” Victor returned and stepped forward, taking the social responsibility from Yuuri, much to his relief. He was looking forward to sitting in the warm car. The driver, whose name Yuuri missed, loaded their cases into the boot and allowed Yuuri the joy of the warmth of his car.  
  
“Where to?” he asked, pulling the vehicle out of the parking bay.  
  
“Shiraume hotel, please.” Victor replied, pulling his phone out. He still had the number from the first time he came to Japan to find Yuuri. “Excuse me while I make this call.” The driver lifted a hand to acknowledge his wish. Neither he nor Yuuri paid much attention to what Victor said after that: something about a room and some apologies about the tardiness of the booking. Yuuri reached his hand to where Victor had left his resting on the seat separating them. Victor’s thumb fell to absently stroking the back of Yuuri’s hand, almost lulling him to sleep if it weren’t for the almost indistinct chatter of the radio.  
 The stress of the Grand Prix and the expectations had exhausted him. Night upon night of waking up in a sweat for fear of failure again or sinking back into the state he was in before Victor came had haunted him for weeks. In the past it was all upon him to win, and yes, he had felt lonely but with the love Victor gave him... after the long months of devotion and time he couldn’t fail Victor too. Victor ended his call and exchanged small talk with the driver as they watched the night and snow fly past. The roads felt so Japanese. Yuuri had missed the paving and the traffic lights and the architecture. He missed seeing happy grandparents walk out together and talk and talk. Though he found Victor allowed him to find some kind of placid-state in his company, nothing felt quite like Japan’s air; fragrant with sakura and cleaner than anywhere else Yuuri could imagine that was urban.

They pulled to a stop after what could have been a minute or an hour, outside a skyscraper-like hotel.  
  
“How much will that be?” Victor enquired, leaving Yuuri to sleep walk his way to the expensive looking entrance. He gaped in dream-like awe. _How am I going to pay Victor back for this?_ He paused outside the brass-rimed doors to wait for Victor, who caught up and walked past Yuuri with a reassuring smile and pushed the glasses up Yuuri’s nose as he did so. Yuuri followed him, waving back at the taxi driver as he left.

Through the heavy doors was a large hall, with a marble-effect floor, maroon rugs and a large dark wooden desk beneath a set of small chandeliers. The pair walked up to the desk. All of the secretaries wore formal suits. Yuuri immediately felt underdressed in his jeans and shabby trainers.  
  
“Hi there! I made a reservation under the name Nikiforov about half an hour ago.” Victor greeted, charming both the two female and the male secretaries with a flash of his smile. The one closest to him flushed as she asked him to spell out his name as she checked it on the computer. They exchanged a few more words, their passports and a set of key cards before a sharply dressed butler enquired whether they’d need help with their luggage.  
  
“No, thank you.” Yuuri declined as Victor accepted on his behalf. They glanced at each other, Yuuri shaking his head to reinforce his decision. Victor conceded and smiled both gratefully and apologetically at the butler before they made their way to the lift. Victor frowned at the back of Yuuri’s head. _Stubborn idiot._  
  
“We’re on the top floor: executive suite; pool access; two nights.” Victor updated Yuuri as they flew up the lift, taking in the cityscape. “It’s beautiful at night.” Victor noted, with a content tone, not looking at the city, but at his Katsudon. He turned to look at him and was immediately caught in Victor’s gaze. He flushed. “This long and you still blush?” Victor smirked, and stroked Yuuri’s cheekbone. “Adorable.” An easy silence overcame the lift.

They exited into a corridor with a wooden floor and a single door. All was silent as they wheeled themselves towards it. A click of a key card later, they entered into what could only be described as a penthouse-like flat. A small hallway lead onto an open plan living area, complete with a lain dinner table and kitchen. On the far walls of the room were large windows – floor to ceiling – which gave a clear view over the riverfront. There were only seconds between the door closing and Yuuri diving onto one of the plush sofas. It was so easy for him to semi-close his eyes and left himself drift into the state between being awake and asleep.

Meanwhile, Victor tucked their cases into the room branching away from the hall; a spacious yet cosy room. Blankets decorated a large double bed in an orderly fashion and a many-doored closet opposed it. He laid the cases down against a free wall and re-joined Yuuri in the main room.  
  
“Would you like a drink, Yuuri?” he asked, bending over the sofa to smooth out Yuuri’s hair as he walked past. In response he got a pitiful moan and a slight shake of a head. Despite this, the tight tension on Yuuri’s forehead had smoothed out where Victor’s hand had traced. He paced towards the kitchen and familiarised himself with the cupboards’ contents. He pulled himself out a mug to make some green tea. He glanced over to where Yuuri was still sprawled on the soda, an arm hanging off the edge and swinging. Yuuri’s eyes tracked its motion. Victor wished he could read his thoughts. The kettle clicked to indicate it was done boiling the water and Victor tore his gaze away from Yuuri in an attempt to not scald himself as he poured the water into the mug with the tea. He brought it over to the sofa, careful to not spill anything on the rug or onto Yuuri and set it down on a glass coffee table in front of the sofa that had been claimed. He lifted Yuuri’s head off the sofa, ignoring his protests and replaced it on his lap as he sat down. He reached for the TV remote and turned to some random channel, turning the volume low as background noise.

Yuuri turned in Victor’s lap to gaze up at him. His face was still tense, his cheeks taught and flat, his jaw set and occasionally shifting from side to side.  
  
“Yuuri what’s troubling you?” Victor asked softly, smoothing Yuuri’s stray fringe hairs away from his face. Yuuri looked down towards his restless hands. He felt like he couldn’t meet Victor’s soft stare with the same purity. He still felt incomplete. The Grand Prix Final was meant to give him some kind of closure and yet he was still finding holes in his performance skittishly.  
  
“I don’t feel like I performed to the best of my ability. I told the world I was going to win with love and I feel like I’ve cheated them.” Yuuri confessed, almost mumbling. Victor’s eyes widened in, not shock, nor horror but concerned, endearing disbelief.  
  
“Yuuri,” Victor breathed and leant over so that his nose was almost touching Yuuri’s, “you proved your worth to the world. You proved yourself worthy of that title and I’m proud of you.” Victor smiled softly. Yuuri nodded half-heartedly. He knew more than most people that he should be proud, yet he had no solid emotion to root that pride to. Maybe he could convince himself that Victor’s love was it. He turned again, this time to mindlessly not pay attention to the TV but rather let the images glaze over. _I’ve spent so much time focussing on winning the Grand Prix that I don’t actually know what else is happening in the world right now… not that I won._ He attempted to shake off his bitter thoughts. No matter how proud he was of Yurio, he was still sour about the margin by which he had won. _If only I’d performed better in the short program…_

Suddenly the pixels morphed into a man with slicked-back dark hair and a black and blue tracksuit with a silver medal around his neck. Yuuri sat up and edged to the front of the sofa, listening into the news closely. It was his picture and Victor’s arm around his waist and Victor’s eyes sparkling with pride into the camera, through the camera and onto the screen. Yuuri almost didn’t want to turn to look at his coach, his friend his fiancé for fear his eyes were no longer sparkling. He didn’t want to accept his disappointing gaze compared to the blown up, proud version of him. He felt like he was at the Grand Prix last year, gazing up at his posters and unable to actually look the man in question in the eye. A hand reached across his face and forced his head to turn to look at Victor. His lips were so close to Yuuri’s ear, he could feel his breath cause the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.  
  
“You were so beautiful Yuuri.” Victor smouldered; a voice like honey and eyes like frozen fire. Yuuri’s breath hitched. He’d seen Victor show off his sex appeal towards his fans as he toured but it wasn’t like what Yuuri was witnessing now. What he saw now was so blade-like focus, ready to crave its way into Yuuri’s soul forever. “You’ve shown me your true Eros Yuuri, and I no longer think that its pork cutlet bowls.” Victor purred, as he leant into Yuuri’s shoulder. However he sat up quickly, a caring smile overtaking his lust. Through the tired haze Yuuri was mesmerised by his mentor’s bare honesty and how well he could read Yuuri. “You should rest first Yuuri, you’ve done enough. You deserve a long rest.” Victor warmed Yuuri’s cheekbone with a light brush. Yuuri nodded slowly and allowed himself to be lead to the bathroom. The room was large, and yet another chandelier adorned it. Unlike the rest of the flat, it wasn’t modern. The floor and walls were marble-type rock, and a large ornate mirror occupied most of one wall. A bathtub that could have been as large as one of the hot springs back home stood firmly in a corner with a large walk-in shower on the opposing wall. Yuuri failed to see the practicality in it but allowed a toothbrush to be put into his hand and took care of himself.

Victor left the bathroom to route through their bags for Yuuri’s pyjamas. They were laid on the bed ready for when Yuuri was finished. He returned quickly and much to Victor’s surprise, stripped as he walked, down to his boxers and slipped into the overly-large bed, entirely ignoring the neatly laid out pyjamas. Victor looked at the sleepy figure in amazement. He never failed to surprise Victor with his occasional outbursts. This only made Victor more urgent to join Yuuri. He rushed to clean himself up and turned all of the lights off, joining his champion in bed and wrapping two slender arms around his waist. Yuuri tensed for a moment, but after a moment of awareness made a satisfied noise.  
“Good night, sleeping beauty.” Victor whispered and kissed the bare base of Yuuri’s neck. He suspected that Yuuri was already fast asleep and didn’t notice.

~~~

Yuuri awoke to the scent of something. He rolled over and out of the foetal position. Out of habit, his heart rate picked up as he looked up at the unfamiliar alarm clock. He yelped and sat up on the edge of the bed. Victor ran to the door. Yuuri looked up to him and oh what a sight it was. He reached for his glasses to see Victor in his underwear and an apron.  
  
“Good morning Yuuri!” he smiled. Yuuri smiled back at him, unguarded. He then noticed his lack of clothes and saw his pyjamas which had fallen to the floor. His cheeks tinged pink at his bareness. “You look good without anything on.” Victor whistled walking out of sight. Yuuri flushed even more. He looked over to the suitcases which lay open beside the bed and saw what could resemble a socially acceptable outfit. He contemplated putting it on but then glanced to at the mirror lining the remainder of the wall that the door didn’t occupy. He looked at himself; messed up hair, muscles defined from the intense practise of previous weeks. Maybe he could stomach walking out to Victor like this. He decided not to think on the topic anymore and followed his primal instincts towards the delicious smells. Upon the dining table were two bowls. Victor sat in front of one with his phone in one hand scrolling away and chop sticks in the other delving into...  
  
“Pork cutlet bowls!” Yuuri cried out, racing to the table and digging in, all thoughts about his state of dress gone. Victor watched Yuuri engulf his food adoringly. _Perhaps aside from the ice, this is the only thing he will ever love more than me._ His forehead wrinkled with thought. __  
  
“Are they any good?” Victor asked. He made a mental note to definitely learn to cook for Yuuri. Yuuri slowed down the pace at which he was eating, and smiled at Victor, his mouth still full. Victor mused about his katsudon, how his jaw managed to look sexy but cute and his cheeks were toned when he was determined and slack and easy when he relaxed. He thought about each harsh word Yurio said against him as he performed his free skate and how he both wanted to encourage him but also punch him in the face. The women’s final was humming on the TV in the background. He wondered how Yuuri managed alone for those long months between losing the Grand Prix and when Victor arrived. He wondered what strength it took for him to rise above the cold words Yurio had said after he’d lost. While he saw the young boy as both his successor and friend, he could barely forgive him for kicking Yuuri when he was down, yet both his inexperience and hormones may have been to blame for that. He understood that it was Yurio’s way of trying to encourage and challenge Yuuri to keep him skating. The other skaters were good in Yurio’s opinion, but Yuuri was his main rival. For now, he was happy that Yurio had found a friend in Otabek. At least maybe he would stop stalking Victor for a while and leave him in peace to focus on making his Yuuri feel good. He could barely see how anyone could say a harsh word against Yuuri. Victor had barely ever seen anyone work as hard as he had, with all of his worries and carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, he still managed to stand up straight and look his opponents in the eye and make it all look like a walk in the park. Victor almost regretted not competing against him while he was at his best. _Next year…_ he smiled a little at the exciting thought.

Yuuri finished eating, his final gulp audiable.  
  
“That was one of the best pork cutlet bowls I’ve ever had.” He praised, and picked up both bowls, taking them to the sink. Victor watched his lean back muscles move under the skin above his underwear. He suddenly craved to touch it possessively. He was up and wrapping arms around Yuuri in barely seconds. Yuuri made a noise of surprise as the chilly work top hit his stomach.  
  
“Victor! Wh-“ he couldn’t finish as he felt the tickle of lips by his ear. He shivered involuntarily at the sensation.  
  
“I want to make you feel good Yuuri.” He purred, “Want to make you feel powerless and on top of the world at the same time.” He continued, causing Yuuri to gasp and turn on the spot to look into Victor’s lust-bright eyes. “You don’t know how you make me feel when you’re on the ice. You don’t know how you make me feel off the ice. You’re just so incredibly you, Yuuri; so perfect and beautiful no matter what.” Victor almost seemed desperate to get through to Yuuri. Yuuri placed a hand on Victor’s shoulder.  
  
“You made me stronger, and able to be me. You have changed me Victor and helped me become who I always wanted to be.” Yuuri leant forward, taking Victor by surprise once again. Thin skin touched thinner skin and the soft flesh left a burn on Victor’s cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna update on Sunday as a weekly basis but the hits from the last chapter blew my mind a little so I decided to put up the next part! Hope you guys enjoy xxx

“I think I’m going to go for a jog, Victor. Would you like to come with?” Yuri invited, tying the laces of his trainers. Victor looked up from his laptop, still in his pyjamas. A flirtatious smile graced his face.

“Would I miss an opportunity to view that booty in tight leggings? I think not.” He chuckled and closed his laptop. He skipped past Yuri to the bedroom to find some sport clothes, settling for a plain tracksuit. He changed with the door open. 

“So, after this,” he pulled one shirt over his head and threw it to one side, “do I get to learn what my student’s preferred shower routine is?” he winked replaced the shirt with another, his voice a little muffled by the fabric. Yuri flushed. “All for coaching purposes,” he added innocently.

“Victor!” he exclaimed, hiding his face in his hands. Victor raised his arms in insincere surrender. Yuri shook his head to hide himself from the piercingly seductive gaze that still scoured him. “Just put your trainers on please.” He slapped a palm to his face but still smiled in disbelief, much to Victor’s amusement. Victor zipped the key card into one of his pockets and announced his readiness. As they travelled down the lift and across the entrance hall, they looked rather out of place amongst the formal business suits. Victor seemed oblivious to the gazes, but Yuri felt a crippling amount of judgement. 

“Victor, do you have your phone?” Yuri asked suddenly as they stretched outside. He nodded in response and they went back to stretching. Yuri was as entranced by each flex of Victor’s sculpted muscles as he had been as a teenager. Each flex caused a shot of want to shoot through Yuri. 

“It has been too long since I trained formally.” Victor mused as they started on their way. 

“Well, you’re going to have to get used to it if you’re returning to competitive skating.” Yuri smirked. He had a small, selfish desire to be able to out-run Victor. They continued at a steady pace. After about ten minutes Victor had stopped talking and had now begun to breathe a little more heavily. Here his year off was beginning to show. Yuri turned his head to the side, still smirking at his renewed rival. “Tired, Victor? Do you want me to pull you along?” he offered, laughing a little as he extended out an arm. Victor glared at him and batted his hand away.

“You…just have…really…good…stamina.” Victor defended himself against Yuri’s teasing. Yuri chuckled to himself again. As they approached the centre of the bridge they had driven across the previous evening, Yuri wound down to a stop. He suspected Victor was grateful for the break. “Not that I’m complaining about your stamina.” Victor winked, once again causing Yuri to blush profusely. Victor’s ability to cover his flaws with charm was definitely one of the reasons he had so many fans world-wide. He never allowed them to see his weakness; only Yuri had seen them on occasion. He had long ago reasoned to himself that being perfect must be exhausting. Though he hated his tendency to break down under his anxiety, he always managed to cough up whatever had been bothering him. He never knew what it was like to have a desire so deep that it allowed him to not let himself go with doubts of imperfections like Victor seemed to. He hated his reactions but he got his emotions out and away from him so he could start again. Perhaps Victor simply carried everything? Or maybe be channelled everything into his skating? Perhaps that was what made him so incredible; he was so perfect and yet his skating, perfect for a certain emotion was imperfect from the point of view of perfection. “Shall we continue?” Victor asked after a moment of deep breathing. Yuri responded by jogging off again, leaving Victor in his trail.  
An hour later, they were at the foot of the road leading up to the hotel. 

“So you think you can beat me at a sprint to the end of this road?” Victor challenged and they paced up and down the end of the road. Yuri looked somewhat bewildered at first but then his face set. 

“From this lamp post?” He asked, determining the rules and walking up to the lamp post in question.

“Sure.” Victor said dismissively and joined him. They stopped a random pedestrian to start their race and placed their hands down and ready to run. 

“On your marks, get set, go!” The random pedestrian counted and they shot off. Victor lead at first with his longer legs gaining distance but Yuri managed to catch up, at least to a half step behind Victor. They maintained steady paces for the first hundred metres before they both began having to grit teeth; Victor starting to struggle maintaining his lead. As they approached the door, Victor managed an unpredicted burst of speed to just about beat Yuri, who crashed into the back of him. 

“Yuri!” Victor shrieked as he was almost knocked onto his knees. 

“Sorry, got carried away,” Yuri apologised, somewhat sheepishly and slightly insincerely; the only give away being the glint in his eyes. “You may have won that, but I can last longer than you old man.” Yuri clawed at Victor’s prowess as they recovered, Victor breathing harder than Yuri. Yuri tried to ignore the twitch it caused him to feel as he listened to Victor’s heavy pants. He shook his head and walked inside.

They entered the lobby, looking even more out of place than earlier and feeling a lot grimmer. A queue seemed to have built up by the lift in their absence. Considering their state of smell and the number of people, they took the stairs up to cool down after their intense rivalry at the end. They walked up quietly, the only sound came from their heavy steps on the stairs as they tiredly made their way up to their temporary corner of the world.  
They let themselves in and sluggishly removed their shoes, putting them as far away from the living space as possible. 

“I call dibs on the shower first!” Victor ran to the bathroom door gleefully. He turned back to Yuri who looked at him, unamused. “You’re welcome to join me, of course.” He winked and left the bathroom door open as he disappeared inside. Yuri gaped after him: sometimes he forgot that Victor would allow him to touch him and that Victor was his. Sometimes he forgot about the ring that had made his home in a promise on his finger. He turned to the bedroom to remove his clothes, down to his underwear. He ran eyes up and down over himself in the mirror and slicked his hair back. With balled fists he walked to the bathroom where Victor had already stripped down and stood in front of the shower, waiting for it to warm up. He turned at the sound of Yuri closing the door behind him. “So you couldn’t resist, huh?” Victor smirked watching Yuri toss his underwear to the side. In the hot springs back in Hasetsu, it was required that you bathed naked as was tradition. Nothing either Victor or Yuri saw was new, but the implications tied to it had changed slightly since last time. Yuri stepped around Victor and into the shower. Victor stared hungrily after him and walked in behind him. Yuri had already stepped under the water to soak his hair and went for the shampoo. Victor took the bottle off him and poured some of the soup into his hand and put the bottle back. “Turn around,” he said and began massaging the suds into Yuri’s scalp. As the black hair became infused with white foam, he rested his hands on Yuri’s shoulders and guided him to the water to rinse it all out. Yuri raised his hands to help get rid of the soap in his hair quicker. He turned around to face Victor and rested his own hands on Victor’s shoulders. He stepped out of the water and rotated around Victor. 

“Your turn,” Yuri smiled. Thoughts were racing through his mind. He could barely formulate coherent thoughts, let alone speak properly. He avoided talking as further. 

“No conditioner?” Victor caught Yuri’s wrists. Yuri shook his head and reached for the shampoo again. Victor watched him pour the liquid into the palm of his hand and inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself down. Victor turned about and placed two hands on the wall of the shower, giving Yuri access to his head. Victor’s almost white hair made it difficult to decipher between the suds and his hair. Victor lost himself in the gentle circles which Yuri adopted to lather the foam through Victor’s hair. Victor sighed softly as the relaxing tingling feeling spread from his head through to his shoulders. As Victor stepped back into the stream of water, Yuri’s hands traced lower, to his shoulders and he continued massaging the firm muscles which lined the slope of his shoulders. Victor’s head tilted backwards, tensing the muscles in his shoulders. Yuri moved a little further down his back to knead the muscles there. Each press of his knuckled into the flesh was precious to Yuri. Each touch was an inch closer to having Victor’s everything. 

“Conditioner?” he prompted Victor, resting a hand on Victor’s hip and he extended his other arm over Victor’s shoulder to have the thicker liquid squeezed onto his hand. He ran his free hand through Victor’s hair and then applied his other hand and slathered the sweet paste onto each strand of Victor’s hair. He rinsed his hands in the stream of water Victor had just left to allow the conditioner to stand in his hair for a moment or two. Addicted, his hands returned straight to rest on Victor’s hips and he stroked this thumbs over the soft, rarely touched skin there. It was surreal; a year ago he could barely imagine Victor glancing in his direction, and now he was intently boring into Yuri’s eyes. He felt under a spotlight in Victor’s gaze but he couldn’t look away from the light in his eyes. Victor placed his forearm on the wall beside where Yuri’s head rested. Their noses almost touched. Victor gently brushed his over the tip of Yuri’s from right to left and with that, tilted his head. Yuri’s eyes were wide and watchful; he inhaled sharply as Victor’s lidded eyes bore into the back of his head. Yuri feared he could almost read every deliciously filthy thought he’d ever had cross through his mind. Yuri’s hands moved up to caress the nape of Victor’s neck. After too little time, Victor pulled back. 

“Hair,” he smiled apologetically and warmed himself under the water and rinsed his hair. Yuri watched him run his fingers through his own hair. He found it majestic in a humble way; Victor wasn’t flouting who he was but it showed, even without doing it intentionally.  
Yuri dipped under the water once more before leaving the shower and rummaged around for a towel. Victor walked up behind him, leaving a wet path from the shower to Yuri. 

“You sure I can’t give you a hand with that towel?” he teased, taking the towel from Yuri and wiping him down, taking care to dry each nook and cranny. Yuri never took his eyes off him, watching every twist of his body around his own. By the time he was finished with Yuri, he was basically dry himself. He didn’t bother taking another towel, opting to use up the one Yuri had taken. Yuri picked up his abandoned underwear and returned to their make-shift bedroom and threw it back into his suitcase as he found new, fresh clothes. The sky had already begun to darken. 

“Where shall we go to eat?” Victor called, still naked as he pulled out his laptop in the other room. He opened the web browser. 

“I don’t mind,” Yuri replied, his voice a little muffled from what Victor presumed was clothing. Best restaurants in Sasebo. He scrolled through recommendations; mostly foreign restaurants, until he settled on a small traditional-style Japanese restaurant. This may make Yuri feel welcome home. Victor smiled to himself as he pulled up directions on his phone. It would take them half an hour to walk. One thing Victor had noticed in the run up to the Grand Prix Final was that Yuri become considerably less talkative. He missed hearing Yuri’s thoughts.

“You should put some clothes on, you’ll get cold.” Yuri said, appearing in the doorway, towel-drying his hair. Victor nodded in agreement and closed the lid of his laptop as walked past Yuri towards the bedroom. Yuri pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through Instagram. Phichit was back in Thailand and relaxing on a beach with Celestino and a few other people Yuri didn’t recognise. He scrolled down to see Chris on a ski slope. “I didn’t know Chris skied.” Yuri commented, still scrolling through Instagram as he walked to the bedroom. 

“Yeah, we used to go together every few years.” Victor replied. “He invited me last year but I was busy preparing for this season. I had a lot on my mind at the time.” He finished buttoning up a shirt. “What do you think?” he asked, spinning. He had a crisp white shirt, almost the colour of his hair, and some expensive-looking jeans on; the type of thing that would make his fans scream. Yuri gulped.

“You look good.” He managed before realising that he still didn’t have a shirt on. “Where did you decide we should go?” he asked, pocketing his phone and bending down in front of his suitcase, routing for a clean shirt for himself. 

“It’s a surprise,” Victor winked and pulled a jumper over his head to ward off the cold winter. Yuri looked over and rolled his eyes before picking out a navy shirt that he was going to wear to the banquet but decided against last minute. He stood and stretched his arms through the sleeved and sprayed some deodorant. “Allow me,” Victor said, buttoning the offensive shirt up. Dammit, obscuring my view of that godly specimen, he tutted to himself. “Let’s go.” Victor urged with a smile. 

No snow was falling tonight, Yuri noticed. They walked with their hands buried deep in their pockets to keep the cold from freezing them to death.  
“How long will it take to get there?” Yuri moaned, as he attempted to bury himself deeper under his scarf. He would have rearranged his hat if it meant he didn’t have to take his hands out of his pockets. 

“We’re over halfway,” Victor replied, glancing down at his phone. He could see Yuri’s shivers ripple through the air between them. “It’ll be worth it,” Victor reassured and took his hand from his pocket and reached it into Yuri’s pocket to join his hand without Yuri having to expose himself to the cold outdoors. The physical connection caused the pair to implicitly walk closer together. Yuri’s discomfort at situations was something that he was familiar with, and often found adorable. He was learning when to treat Yuri’s anxious moments gently and to differentiate them from when Yuri was simply having a princess moment. He could not deny to himself that he was a prince of sorts when it came to luxuries. He enjoyed his spacious apartment in St. Petersburg, and he enjoyed tasty home cooked food despite often being a bit of a horrendous cook. 

“Yuri, I have a confession,” Victor began, pausing as a lorry drove past them. Yuri looked over to his coach expectantly, but not harshly. “I woke up early to go to the bakery and bought the katsudon. What you saw was me washing up as you woke up. I didn’t make it myself.” He added. Yuri’s face softened.  
“Victor, I’m shocked and hurt that you would trick me like that,” he looked away dramatically. Victor’s face fell. Yuri looked back, hurt still arranged on his face. He broke into a laugh. “Victor that’s okay. It was cute that you thought to buy some.” He played with Victor’s fingers in his pocket.  
“Yuri! You made me worry for a second!” Victor chastised and laughed in relief. He looked back to his phone which showed that they were only metres from their destination. Victor looked around to see the sign marking the location of the restaurant. He saw a traditional triangularly-propped up sign, about a metre tall with the name of the restaurant skilfully hand written in green chalk on. He tugged Yuri forward and towards the door the arrow beneath the sign indicated. “We’re here.”

They walked into a blast of hot air. Yuri unknotted his scarf as soon as the heat hit him. A server walked over to the duo as they came in.  
“I’m really sorry, we’re nearly full.” She apologised profusely. Victor flashed a charming smile and took a step away from Yuri and spoke quietly to the waitress. Yuri couldn’t hear what they said, but watched the waitresses face change; she was a little agitated by Victor’s persistence at first, and then her eyes widened suddenly before changing to a excited understanding. She hurried around the corner and out of view as Victor stepped back toward Yuri.  
“What’s happening?” Yuri asked, getting ready to put his scarf back on. 

“I was just telling her about Japan’s top dozen-a-dime figure skater Katsuki Yuri.” He smirked. Yuri flushed. 

“Victor!” he exclaimed in embarrassment. He hated causing fuss for people fuss and bother and to be the reason that someone would fuss was almost at the top of situations he hated putting people in. The waitress returned, gushing to the short, elderly man beside her and patting his arm excitedly.  
“…he’s here, like really here and wants to eat!” Yuri heard her squeal in excitement. The man looked down at her endearingly. 

“So this is Japan’s top skater?” he addressed Yuri, his face unreadable. Victor confirmed with a bright smile. Yuri began to worry. Many people Yuri came into contact with in his life understood what he did and why he did it; when he came to the daily general public, he never expected anyone to have any appreciation for what he did, nor why he did it. When he was put on the spot like this he couldn’t fathom how to react. He bit his lip in worry and looked to Victor, his eyes pleading him to get him out of the situation. Before Victor had time to react to his partner’s discomfort, the elderly man broke into a wide smile and pulled Yuri into a tight hug. He made a noise of surprise as the wind was knocked to the back of his throat. 

“Well done my boy!” he praised and dragged him around the corner to where the space opened up dramatically, leading to about twenty tables housing about fifty people. Yuri went white. Victor bit his lip as he chased after the over-excited manager, praying that he simply lead them to a table and that he didn’t…

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he called the room to attention and they quietened down. Yuri looked about like a trapped hare; his heartbeat pounding in his ears and his face drained. “Can we have a round please for the silver medallist of this year’s Figure Skating Grand Prix Final, Katsuki Yuri!” the room broke into a noisy round of applause and Yuri, almost frozen by the sudden change of events managed to bow his head in a nod. The manager turned to speak to him. “Our private room is free, if you’d like to dine there?” he offered with a great, hearty smile. Victor interrupted and won his attention over.  
“That sounds great!” He beamed, squeezing Yuri’s upper arm to keep him as calm as possible. They followed him around the open space to a room down a corridor which also lead to the kitchen. They were lead to the table at the centre of the small, cosily decorated room and left to their devices with the menus. Yuri took his coat off and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up a little. He sat opposite Victor and laid his forehead against the table, breathing heavily. Victor’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. He knew what Yuri could be like when he was stressed. Just stay by my side, Victor recalled Yuri saying. He stood and shifted around the table to sit by Yuri.

“I’m sorry Yuri.” He apologised and placed a hand on his back. Yuri took a deep breath and looked up at Victor, his head still on the table. He took another breath.

“It’s okay. I just didn’t expect it; it’s okay.” He winced a smile at Victor. 

“The food here is meant to be pretty good,” Victor attempted to console his still-pale Katsudon and moved back around the table and began to flick through the menu. 

Variations of miso and rice, sushi and seafood lined the page in blocks. 

“Yuri, what is this dish?” he asked, trying to distract Yuri from whatever thoughts were currently plaguing him. “Shabu-shabu?” he attempted in slightly broken Japanese. Sometimes Yuri got so used to Victor’s Russian-tinted Japanese that he forgot that Japanese wasn’t in fact his first language. When he spoke with such a thick Russian accent, Yuri couldn’t help but feel his heart melt a little.

“It’s kind of like thin beef slices which you dip and move around in a pot of boiling water.” Yuri explained. “I’ve had it once or twice when eating out but I don’t think we’ve ever had it at home. I remember it being nice.” He nodded, picking through the menu himself. The waitress from before came in, after a few more moments of deliberation and took their orders. Her face was glowing as she brushed Yuri’s hand as she took the menu from him. He smiled politely, if not uncomfortably. She left them slowly, almost reluctant to leave. Victor watched her go impatiently and turned sharply back to Yuri as she left his line of sight. 

“Hmm, she likes you.” Victor observed, resting an elbow on the table and his head on the hand that joined it. He wasn’t necessarily jealous, but he was amused by his unfamiliarity to the situation. 

“Err…” Yuri couldn’t find any words, still a little shaken from earlier. Victor observed how Yuri’s eyes seemed to flicker around the room. 

“Are you anxious right now Yuri?” he asked, still intent upon understanding his partner. 

“Err, well…” Yuri hesitated. Victor sat up and leant across the table a little. 

“Yuri, please be honest with me.” Victor asked, taking Yuri’s ring hand. “This means something and I can only help you if you’re honest with me. I’m not asking you to tell me everything, just let me know when you need a place to be alone.” Victor expanded on his statement. 

“Victor, I trust you and I really want to enjoy this and I’m okay, just a little nervous.” Yuri explained, returning Victor’s grip on his hands. 

“Okay, would you like some water?” Victor asked, his eyes tracking to the jug and glasses which accompanied it. Yuri nodded and let go of his hand. 

Their food arrived on large trays with many sides that Victor was pretty sure they wouldn’t usually get if Yuri wasn’t who he was. The food was…

“Vksuno!” Victor cried as he tried his first strip of beef. Yuri’s smile shone as he watched Victor appreciate his country’s food. “You know, I never really tried Japanese food until I met you.” Victor mused. “When I was skating around the world competitively, I tried to stick to foods I knew, the same reason you avoided the raw food last season. In the last year I’ve really enjoyed eating different foods with you.” Victor added quietly. 

“So I didn’t just win the chance to eat katsudon with you, but everything else too?” Yuri smiled softly. Victor nodded and they continued to eat in silence. Victor hummed, confused. Yuri tilted his head in question. 

“I think I overcooked this piece of beef.” He chuckled. “It’s your fault,” his eyes crinkled playfully at the edges. Yuri’s eyes widened. 

“What did I do!?” he asked with his mouth still full of sushi. 

“You distracted me. Your fault.” Victor smirked, eating it anyway. Yuri glared at him, still smiling through his food. 

The waitress came over once more with the bill.  
“Are we going to split the bill?” Yuri asked, already assuming the answer and reaching into his coat pocket. 

“No, Yuri. I’ve got this. My treat.” He finalised and gave his card to the waitress before Yuri could retort. She half-heartedly took the card and processed the payment before bidding them a good evening. She hovered in the door, but continued walking as Victor watched her go expectedly. They exited into the cold evening air, but Yuri didn’t feel is as strongly as he had on the way there; he put it down to the fact that he was hungry before. He still buried his hands in his pocket though. The walk back seemed to not take as long either.

By the time they were home they both were moving sluggishly. Victor spent far longer than he normally would figuring out how to undo his laces, eventually conceding to allow Yuri to do it, though the results were hardly better.  
“Yuri m’tired.” Victor slurred as he returned from the bathroom to join Yuri under the sheets. It was colder than last night.  
“Are we going to pull these extra layers over ourselves?” Yuri asked, still sat up as Victor curled around him.  
“Could just cuddle closer,” Victor suggested through his sleep-induced lack of verbal filter.  
“I guess that works too,” Yuri smiled, the extinguished lamp hiding the faint blush that was now lighting his cheeks. He could barely believe that this was happening at all. This; Victor laying beside him, arms around him and ultimately alone was all that he had dreamt of for years. A part of him argued that they’d shared beds pushed together and even just double beds, and despite the fact that nothing was new it still felt like it couldn’t possibly be real. He was finally where he belonged.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh I was gonna wait until Sunday to upload the next chapter but this fic is doing so much better than i could have dreamed!!!! much love and I hope you guys enjoy xxx

All too soon they had to leave the hotel. Though sterile and unnaturally tidy, Yuri felt like it was beginning to become home. Maybe that was due to just moving around the world for a few months. However, his true home was calling to him… literally. His missed calls list complied of his family and friends from Hasetsu. He missed the salty sea air and the ear-numbing ocean winds and the birds and the small shops. He missed his bed and missed his mother. He paused in his thoughts; whenever he thought of home, by default of years of time away, he thought of Vicchan bounding to meet him and knocking him over as soon as he walked through the door. He wondered whether Viktor missed his home sometimes. That thought provoked Yuri as they checked out of the hotel. 

“Will you go back to Russia to see your family?” Yuri asked as they exited the main doors. Viktor’s face fell. 

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Viktor confessed coldly. He flipped out his phone a little more aggressively that was strictly necessary to open it and check any updates from the taxi company. “Why? Do you want me to leave?” he asked in his semi-passive aggressive and semi-charming way. Yuri’s eyes widened. 

“No! Of course not,” Yuri defended quickly, “I just figured that you haven’t gone home over the past year.” Yuri explained reaching for some headphones in his rucksack. As he pulled them out, Viktor’s hand lowered his own, his eyes dark. 

“Why did you ask about my family?” he asked darkly. It was clear he was trying to keep control through slight panic. It was just an ordinary question, Viktor tried to rationalise with himself. Yuri was confused; nothing he had ever said had bothered Viktor like this. He took Viktor’s hand in an attempt to calm him down. 

“I’m sorry, pretend I never said anything.” Yuri apologised and squeezed Viktor’s hand. 

The two stood there in silence outside, and waited for the taxi. Viktor was visibly getting control again, as he flicked his fringe to one side. But although he was calming down, he also felt Viktor closing up a little. As their cab pulled up, Viktor took up Yuri’s case. 

“I’ve got this Yuri.” He glowed with an unnatural sparkle he usually reserved for press conferences and greeting fans. It felt like a punch to the stomach for Yuri to see it now after everything. With a lowered head he greeted the driver and gave his home address. 

“Arigato.” Yuri replied and they left. A frosty silence overtook the car. Yuri looked over to Viktor. He had the window open slightly, causing his hair to storm around his head slightly, and had one hand propping his head up and the other fiddling with the strap of his bag. He appeared to be massaging his temple under the fold of skin he was propping himself up with and he looked out of the window with a blank expression. His brow was set though and his eyes brooding. This was one factor of Viktor’s life that Yuri had never known about: whenever he asked anyone about Viktor as a child growing up, he always heard talk of his prodigal nature and how he was great at ice-skating and how charming he was and how his favourite food changed depending on who you asked. Even when the internet became available to him, nowhere was any mention of his family. He had presumed at first that as Viktor was a child ice-skater that some form of protection was placed over the data but even as he grew into the senior stages, none of the information was available. By this point Yuri was past stalking his inspiration on the internet and more focussing on his own talents in Detroit, busy with college and making memories with Phichit. Now, more than ever he wanted to know about Viktor’s past aside from skating, but he felt as though Viktor wasn’t willing to open up about it very readily. 

He realised he had been staring at Viktor and saw the driver look back at Yuri in his rear-view mirror. He glanced back to the road as Yuri picked up his eyes. He wished he was home already, soaking in the springs, or helping his mother with the B&B or watching TV with Minako and Mari, and scratching Makkachin behind the ear. Or skating with Yu-chan. He missed Yu-chan a lot. He missed skating with her and talking with her. As young skaters he had learned a lot from her and in return she had also learnt a lot from him. He rested his head against the glass but quickly retreated upon feeling every single bump in the road erode away his brain cells. 

“I don’t mean to pry but are you the guy who entered the figure skating Grand Prix? Katsuki…” The driver finally spoke up. Yuri’s attention shot straight to the driver who looked both excited and nervous. Yuri felt put under a spotlight for a moment. He couldn’t lie because if this man knew who he was then he’d most certainly recognise Viktor. 

“I am,” Yuri confirmed with a humble smile. The driver’s eyes lit up in delight. “Katsuki Yuri.” He clarified.

“If I wasn’t driving, I’d hug you!” He laughed heartily. “My daughter was watching you on the TV and she wants to skate now too. She had her first lesson yesterday, bless her. She fell over countless times.” He laughed fondly. His words warmed Yuri’s heart. 

“Where does your family live?” Yuri asked, very interested in how he’d affected this man. 

“We live in the next village down from Hasetsu. That’s near you! I think she had her lesson at the Ice Castle Rink.” He beamed. Yuri’s eyes lit up. 

“I’d love to meet her!” Yuri grinned, hoping that he could somehow encourage his daughter further into the sport. 

“Her next lesson is next Sunday. If you could come down and say hello that’d make her day. As long as it’s not too much trouble of course.” He added. 

“Of course, not. I’ll find out when they’re training the beginners and I’ll drop by.” Yuri promised. “May I borrow this pen?” He indicated to the one lain in the compartment beside the handbrake. The driver nodded and hummed to the radio happily as Yuri made a note to visit the rink on Sunday.

He leant back in his seat and watched the trees lining the roads whip past. Though the trees looked bare, they felt wholesome with the white frost dusting the branches and enhancing what was there. Aside from winning contests and Viktor, the main reason Yuri skated was to make people happy, or at least make them feel something. Perhaps this was the closure he needed, not the medals, but knowing he had changed someone’s life – that he wasn’t irrelevant. He smiled down at his hand; a warmth inside that he’d longed for since he started skating filling him up. He felt himself being looked at, and returned to a neutral expression, looking at Viktor. 

His gaze was intense but not hostile. He was just watching Yuri: every twitch of muscle in his face. How pure his delight at hearing this little girl skated was. When Yuri loved something, he loved it from the root up and Viktor could almost picture a small Yuri falling over on his first time on skates and trying to go faster than he should. Maybe I should ask his family if they have any videos of him skating as a child. He turned back to his window for fear that he was intruding on Yuri’s joy. He went back to silently debating whether or whether not to tell Yuri everything. 

They pulled onto Hasetsu’s familiar roads and a boyish delight grew over Yuri as he messaged his family to let them know he was nearly home. The streets had no snow, but evidence of ice and the cold was still dominant. The small houses with their wooden structures and porches made it clear to Viktor that this was the second or third place Yuri belonged. (A selfish part of him made space for in his arms, after on ice). 

Yuri hugged the driver goodbye as he delivered them at the hot springs. 

“Maybe I’ll see you on Sunday too?” Yuri smiled to the driver as Viktor walked ahead to the front door. Viktor felt jealous pangs as he saw Yuri warm-heartedly interact with this stranger. He knew he had no foundation to feel hurt, but he did. 

“Maybe. Good night.” The driver left, honking on his way out. They walked up to the door and it swung open without them even knocking. Minako-senpai had travelled home ahead of them and greeted them warmly but it was nothing compared to the bone-crushing hug of Yuri’s parents. Hiroko bounced up to Yuri and pulled him into a big hug. He was practically deafened as his mother shouted all kinds of emotional praise at him. She pulled back and held him at arm’s length and took the reality of her son’s existence in and then tightly embraced him again.

“Yuri! I’m so proud of you. We all sat around here and watched you!” she gushed. “I really want you to enjoy tonight because we’re all really proud of you.” His parents grinned and forcibly took their bags to their rooms and guided them to sit and eat. A large spread of food awaited. Various treats and assortments of stews scented the room and Yuri’s face or name was plastered on every surface. Posters of him and banners adorned the walls. Viktor swelled with pride. He put a hand on Yuri’s shoulder and squeezed as a great number of family friends came up to greet Yuri. Viktor slipped away to help himself to come of the delicious food and cuddled up to Makkachin in the corner, enjoying watching the scene unfold. 

Yuri looked around the room and people laughed at things they’d said and they beamed at him and in the corner was Viktor and Makkachin. Yuri could understand Viktor’s desire to spend some time alone with Makkachin – Yuri was the same with Vicchan whenever he had come home from competitions abroad. His gaze at Viktor was broken by his mother passing him to Mari-neechan to be hugged.

They were all so happy and joyous – Viktor felt somewhat out of place. An event like this had never taken place after he’d won a competition. He’d simply been congratulated by his rink mates and then went back to practising. 

Unable to take the memories, or therein lack of, he quietly left the party with the excuse of spending some time with Makkachin. He walked around the block and along the sea front, and kept walking. He stumbled across the ice rink after about an hour. A light was on and he couldn’t resist. He entered with Makkachin and saw Yu-chan stacking skates ready for the sessions tomorrow. She looked up as the door opened. 

“Viktor! Congratulations!” she said, and continued upon noticing his broody look: “How can I help?” she asked, sensing a low tone, similar to that of Yuri’s when he came to skate late at night out of anxiety. 

“Could I skate for a while before you close?” he asked. She nodded and passed him some boots. They were a little scuffed but kept in good condition. “Could I take Makkachin in? Not onto the ice but…” he gestured in a circle to show the edge. She agreed again and let him through. 

The ice was fresh and smooth; he made his way to the centre. Makkachin stood on his find legs with paws resting on the barricade. He thought through all of the programs he’d ever skated, all of them completely different but each as beautiful as the last. He recalled one of heartbreak and loss and tried to remember the piece that went with it. He began to move to it, the track running through his head; the violent crescendos and the quiet sadness that went with them. Each move dramatic but humble. His true soundtrack was not the music as it was for Yuri, but the cutting scrape of blade in ice as he pivoted and looped around the rink. Each skid with a heartbeat in his ear and breaths perfectly timed to maximise the fluidity of the piece. That was his music. As he reached the end of the skate, he felt the tears prickle at the edge of his eyes and collapsed onto the ice, silent shudders emerging where he tried to repress sobs.

Back at the party, Yuri’s father, Toshiya, broke into the champagne, pouring glasses for everyone and proudly announcing that he’d always believed in Yuri (despite not knowing exactly what he was proud of, only that involved dancing on ice), before commencing what would be the start if another embarrassing Katsuki drinking episode. Yuri drank a glass with his cousin, who congratulated him and then proceeded to take the piss out of him and Viktor light-heartedly arousing the easy blush onto his face. At the mention of Viktor he looked around for the man in question but he was nowhere to be seen. Yuri’s mood dampened a little. He excused himself from the party for a short while to check in both his own room, Viktor’s room, the bathroom and the springs for a sign of Viktor. He was nowhere to be found, and neither was Makkachin. Yuri had noticed Viktor’s off-mood all day and now he desperately needed to find him; nothing was complete tonight without him. He returned to the main gathering, a slight frown set on his face. His sister approached him with some champagne. 

“You may as well join the drinking. My view is that it’ll be easier to stomach the embarrassment if we’re drunk, do you agree?” she said, handing the glass to Yuri. As the party drank themselves into the start of what would be a mess, he looked to the clock. Viktor had been gone for over an hour. He stole one of the many bottles of champagne people had brought and slipped his coat and shoes on and ran out into cold. He ran to the sea-front and looked along for any sign of silver hair or Makkachin, but there was nothing to be found. He checked his phone and rang Viktor but ended up on voicemail. What if he’s gone forever? What if that was the last time I ever see him? Should I have checked on him earlier? Viktor? Viktor!? Where are you? 

The bottle was cold in his already freezing hands. Yuri looked around and sat against the wall in an attempt to clear his head and think straight. When Viktor was upset what would he do? When Yuri was upset what would he do? He stood up and looked across the bridge to the ice rink, still lit up despite the hour. He sighed, wondering whether Viktor would want to be disturbed. I can always go check; he doesn’t have to know I’m there. With that reasoning in mind, he set off at a jog to the rink. When he got there, Yu-chan ran around the corner from the back storage room to the desk. 

“Yuri!” She squealed excitedly. Yuri made a gesture to cause her to quieten down. 

“Hey there. I missed you.” He smiled and hugged her over the desk. 

“Aww I missed you too Yuri. Well done! You have done me proud.” She gushed quietly. “Are you looking for Viktor?” she asked. Yuri nodded and bit his lip. 

“He’s skating right now; did you want to join him?” She asked, preparing to get his spare skates from one of the locked lockers behind the desk. 

“No, I was just going to watch him.” Yuri flushed. He realised how stalker-like he must have sounded. Yu-chan giggled and nodded. 

“Of course, go ahead.” She said. Yuri went to the side corridor towards the inside viewing room. “Oh Yuri!” she called. He jogged back to the desk. “If I give you the keys, could you lock up for me? I was going to join your parent’s celebrations after I was finished here.” She explained. Yuri nodded and listened as she went over where the keys were and just that he needed to lock the changing rooms and the main door as he left. She kissed his cheek goodbye and he locked the entrance behind her. He then returned to the viewing room. 

Viktor was dancing across the ice, a solemn expression on his face. As he skated he didn’t notice Makkachin leave the rink to come inside to the viewing room and join Yuri. 

“Hey Makkachin.” Yuri greeted and stroked the thick-haired dog as he watched Viktor twist and turn. Though there was no music, Yuri recognised the routine as one from his first or second senior seasons. It had been beautifully heart breaking when Yuri had watched it on the TV but compared to the raw emotion in this, that performance looked mediocre. Even though this was not as perfect and clean as the original performance, the rough edges somehow made the routine have another layer of depth and meaning. 

“Oh…” Yuri managed before Viktor finished the piece and fell forward onto the ice. His heartrate picked up quickly. He didn’t know if there was something wrong with Viktor’s health or he was just tired. Upon watching his a little longer, Yuri saw the shakes in his shoulders. He launched away from the bench and opened the door directly to the rink and skidded over the ice to where Viktor was lying, fists clenched on the ice, protecting his head. Yuri knelt down beside him and poked his parting gently and then patted it once as he always did when he needed to indicate that he understood Viktor’s imperfections. Viktor inhaled in shock and his head snapped up to look at Yuri. His eyes were wide with fear. Yuri placed a hand on Viktor’s cheek, as his panicked expression and raw sadness was evidence in his features. His skin was blotched and his eyes red, hair sticking to his forehead where a feverish sweat had broken out. 

“Viktor…” Yuri breathed and gently pulled him into a hug, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and the other around the back of his waist. He rubbed up and down in a soothing motion. “It’s okay.” He said and hummed soft reassurances to his friend and lover as tears streamed down his face. “Viktor…” Yuri repeated and held up face in his hands. He wiped the tears that ran rivers down Viktor’s face with his thumbs. Viktor’s eyes were half closed as if he was trying to force the tears to not escape and avoided Yuri’s gaze. 

“Yuri I’m so weak, I’m sorry. I’m your coach I shouldn’t be in this state. You need support. You’re the priority.” He breathed and somewhat chanted. Yuri frowned and shook his head. 

“Viktor you don’t need to be my coach every minute of every hour. You’re my friend before you’re my coach.” Yuri whispered. “I love you Viktor.” He resolved. A moment passed and Yuri gasped. Oh my god what have I done? What is he going to say? Why are you like this Yuri? Viktor gaped at Yuri. The remnants of tears still in his eyes, yet he looked curiously at Yuri. He looked like how he looked when he’d first asked why Yuri couldn’t land jumped in competition, but somewhat more shocked rather than amused. Yuri gulped, waiting for some kind of reaction. Through the ice making the knees of his jeans wet, he felt Viktor twist a little to sit up. He was still staring at Yuri as though he was about to shatter into a thousand shards of ice. Yuri gripped Viktor’s shoulder firmly. He’d already said it and maybe it had taken too long to say it, but now it was out. “I love you,” he repeated looking Viktor in the eye. His heartrate was through the roof and he was almost sure his breathing could be equated to what it was after he’d jogged a few kilometres.  
Yuri’s name rolled off Viktor’s tongue and he looked to the ground. A small, nervous smile crept over his face. 

“Do you mean that?” he choked out a disbelieving laugh. He looked to Makkachin. Yuri nodded and ran his hand down from Viktor’s shoulder to his arm and traced the definition of his muscles and the lines of his veins to his hand. He took it and raised it to his lips. 

A different kind of tears threatened to break from Viktor’s eyes as he felt Yuri’s lips brush over his hand. Viktor felt the warmth in each touch and care. He didn’t yank anything and he didn’t roughly handle him. Yuri touched him the same way he touched Viktor’s heart as he danced on the ice. Yuri moved his other hand to brush the rest of Viktor’s hair out of his face and ran through it. Yuri nodded again, bringing his lips together in resolutely. Viktor finally moved to raise a hand and rest it at the base of the back of Yuri’s neck. He knelt up to meet him at eye level. Their first kiss had been a surprise to Yuri mostly, but he grown accustomed to their more frequent than average touches. However, this time Viktor was hesitant. He’d kissed perhaps more people than he would ever like to admit. Fair play – it gave him experience but on the flip side of that was almost forgetting how to get lost in true passion. He could never lose that with his skating as that was a part of his life that he often refused to share with anyone except when he was performing. Yuri had been the exception with his coaching but kissing, romance; love. They were all words he was both well-versed in but with Yuri everything felt new. Each time he smiled it took away Viktor’s breath. Each subtle brush on breath on his skin and each concentrated look were new to him. The rest of the world was enamoured with Viktor. He was used to it, the shouts and the roses. He could hardly read Yuri. He knew that he’d always looked up to him but what he wanted from Viktor was different. He’d made that clear on the beach, and though he’d declined Viktor as his boyfriend unofficially then, they’d grown together in a way that neither of them could have expected. Just like Viktor didn’t expect Yuri to slowly and hesitantly move in closer and closer and closer… he definitely didn’t expect him to make it and softly guide Viktor’s lips onto his. Nothing was rushed. Yuri knew no one would disturb them. He was at home on the ice and here he felt confident enough to show Viktor what he meant to him. After a few seconds of shock, Yuri gained the courage to move a little and felt Viktor part his lips a little. Yuri slipped his arms loosely around Viktor’s waist, easing himself towards Viktor. Each slide along the bottom of Viktor’s lips sent another shiver of adrenaline through him – he could not believe this was happening. Yuri had full control over Viktor; he set the pace.  
Makkachin’s bark caused Yuri to flinch away from Viktor. He was a little resentful of being pulled away but also felt a little guilty for forgetting him. Yuri cleared his through and stood up, careful not to slip in his trainers. He wiped down his jeans of water stains as he allowed Viktor to use him to stand.  
“I brought some champagne before everyone else drank it all.” Yuri mentioned, picking it up from the bench where he had left it. “Should I open it now or save it for tomorrow maybe?” he asked. 

“I don’t feel like drinking tonight and I don’t want you drinking either.” Viktor smirked. “You seem to forget important moments in our relationship when you drink too much champagne.” A mischievous glint in Viktor’s eyes caused Yuri to flush and beg him not to bring that up again. Yuri took Viktor’s skates from him and put them back and turned off all of the lights, giving the keys over to Viktor to lock up the changing rooms. They left the rink in a comfortable silence, with Makkachin dancing around their feet as they walked. The moonlight shone through Viktor’s hair, and highlighted his cheekbones. Yuri still could hardly believe that he could see them in real life, let alone touch them. 

They reached Yuri’s home and walked up to the front door, but upon looking through the windows, Yuri tugged Viktor’s sleeve and brought him in around the back so as to avoid everyone. They quietly took their shoes off and left them by the backdoor and went upstairs, avoiding the intense game of charades that was going on in the main room. He spied Yuko-san wink at him and blushed at her before leading Viktor away from prying eyes, Makkachin tight on their heels. Viktor peeled off to his room with Makkachin, leaving Yuri to enter his room, this time not panicking but finally feeling wholesome in the space he had spent a large proportion of his life in. He hid the champagne under his desk and unzipped his case, routing through his dirty laundry to find his pyjamas. He quickly changed and went to brush the evening from his teeth, somewhat reluctantly. To his surprise Viktor joined him in the bathroom. 

“Do I taste that bad huh?” he teased, taking advantage of the fact that Yuri could not retort with his toothbrush and the accompanying foam threatening to break out of his mouth. He winked to further tease Yuri as he too began to clear himself up. Yuri had no doubt that he wouldn’t be going to sleep straight away. Yuri gently nudged Viktor’s shoulder with his own as he left Viktor in the bathroom. He bid a goodnight to Makkachin who barked snoozily back at him from the corner of Viktor’s room. Yuri smiled adoringly at him and made his way to his own room. He turned at the sounds of steps approaching from behind. Viktor strode down the corridor and stopped when his mouth was just by Yuri’s ear, arms barely sliding around Yuri. 

“You’re welcome to join me, if you can’t sleep.” He smiled and squeezed his hand goodnight and left Yuri alone in the darkness. He backed into his own room and pushed back the clean sheets from his bed, slipping between them easily. Yuri took off his glasses and closed his eyes, falling asleep to the occasional sounds of laughter from downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Ariagato = thank you)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while!! School's started again so less time to write :( anyway hope everyone's having a good 2017 so far :) xxx

It felt like no time at all passed before he re-awoke with a dry sting in his throat. He coughed a little to try and aid getting comfortable again but to no avail. Defeated, he got up and routed around for his glasses and snuck his way to the bathroom. The house was now quiet apart from the occasional snore or yawn. He turned the light on to see and flinched at the painfully contrasting brightness and hoped the light wouldn’t wake anyone up. One glass more than he had when he arrived, he made his way back to his room having drunk one glass and refilled it. A low blue light came from under the door to Viktor’s room. Yuri’s curiosity was piqued but the burden of the water called first. He returned to his room, careful not to spill anything and placed it beside his bed and abandoned it there. He closed the door to his room behind him and softly knocked on Viktor’s door. He thought he heard a noise coming from inside. Imagination or not, he opened it quietly, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboard which was second from the door. 

Viktor was sat, propped up against pillows with no shirt and his laptop balanced across his lap. He looked up at Yuri. The dark circles under his eyes were exaggerated by the shadows cast by the light of his laptop. Yuri closed the door behind him. 

“Have you slept?” he asked, walking over to the bed and sitting down on it, turned toward Viktor. He shook his head silently and cleared his throat a little. 

“Why not?” Yuri asked, shuffling closer to Viktor. Makkachin was fast asleep in the corner. 

“Wasn’t tired,” he excused, but his lidded eyes and frequent yawns suggested otherwise. Yuri closed the lid of Viktor’s laptop and put it on the small table beside him, and placed his glasses on top of it. He eased Viktor to sit up while he rearranged the pillows and re-lay him back down, and joined him. They lay on their sides, looking at each other in the dark. A soft silence, only broken by Makkachin light snores fell over them as the lump in Viktor’s throat bobbed up and down almost anxiously. He reached out a hand to rest on Viktor’s cheek. 

“Before, when you invited me to sleep with you; was that you asking me to sleep with you?” Yuri asked. Viktor said nothing, but looked down to where his hand lay between their abdomens. Yuri’s expression hardened in scolding of himself for not picking up on the sign. He apologised. Viktor looked back up to Yuri. “Don’t apologise, I should have told you to stay rather than given you a choice.” he huffed a tired laugh. Yuri smiled a little. 

“Try sleep now, Vitya.” He cooed and gently closed the lids of Viktor’s eyes. As he did so, Viktor moved to get into a more comfortable position. Yuri shuffled up to curl up behind Viktor and rested a comforting arm around his waist. “I’ve got you.” He reassured and waited until Viktor’s breathing had deepened before allowing himself to follow Viktor into sleep.

Viktor awoke with an arm draped over him and a hand limply stretched out above his head on his pillow. It was an odd sensation; whenever he had indulged in one-night stands or even attempted a relationship, he’d always felt like he woke up alone. It was so odd that his muddled morning thoughts almost convinced him that Makkachin had transformed into a human teddy bear, ready to lull him to sleep. But no, the familiar yellow-tinted skin and therein lack of fur confirmed his temporary insanity as amounting to nothing. The last time he had awoken in this situation, he had been desperate to climb out of the claustrophobic grip and leave the bed, and yet he had been fearful to move for the sake of waking the other person. This time he allowed himself to drown in the touch. Yuri’s hand was loosely curled on itself, allowing the knuckles to brush lightly over Viktor’s lower stomach as his breath caused a little rise and fall. The slight tickling sensation was pleasant, he decided. He twisted slowly and gently on the spot, and felt the bed on the other side of Yuri suddenly dip and a curly dog cuddle up to Yuri’s back. 

The rest of the house was quiet, undoubtedly most of the remaining people were barely corpses left over from last night’s heavy celebrations. He allowed this time to watch Yuri at his most peaceful; he found that when Yuri was peaceful and at ease, his calmness resonated through Viktor as well. He answered Yuri’s protective arm by placing his own hand on Yuri’s waist and allowed the tension and release of Yuri’s abdominal muscles to move his hand. Each soft rise and fall was perfectly rhythmic and as Viktor thought to himself quietly, it almost matched the beat of his Free Skate music from last year. Yuri on Ice… Viktor had often had his own music composed for his programs, but nothing had spoken to him like “Yuri on Ice” had. Its melodic tones were woven together perfectly and every note made sense, each one related to a part of Yuri’s story He understood most parts of the composition but a few sections confused him. He could only guess at what Yuri had been feeling at the time. He was now well acquainted with Yuri’s tendency to become anxious in the face of his own doubts and had a learned a little about how to combat the moments. He had noticed that the sections of the music which seemed to represent these phases grew fewer and farther between as the program went on. Did that mean that Viktor had truly helped Yuri? He always knew that Yuri had the strength to win on his own, but his doubts always seemed to hold him back; the distance he would put between himself and his surroundings whenever he felt like this, Viktor had noticed. But always after the music drew you to that dark place in your mind where you question how you are going to be able to achieve your dreams, a lighter tone always pulled you out, sooner and sooner before it managed to penetrate into your mind. Perhaps that was Viktor helping Yuri to become stronger. Perhaps that was Yuri unlocking the strength that was always there. 

Yuri stirred beside him. First, he rolled over, away from Viktor. The hand which lay on Yuri’s waist, slipped underneath Yuri’s shirt and he could feel the twist of toned muscle beneath the thin layer of squishy flesh that he’d grown to love. It made a great pillow, he had decided as he and Yuri had rolled around each other in the hotels on many occasions. It still caused his breath to catch in this throat. 

“Mmm Makkachin.” Yuri whispered, drowsily stroking the dog. Viktor smiled at the back of his head; the love that he showed Makkachin could rival his own. 

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Viktor wished, and shifted forward to lean over Yuri. He turned to look at his coach. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you were awake.” Yuri remarked. He sat up and reached for his glasses remembering the previous night. “Did you get any sleep?” He asked, gently scrutinising Viktor for any signs of fatigue. 

“I just woke up,” Viktor replied, deciding that adding “and I watched you sleep for a bit” was perhaps even a little far for him. Yuri gave a relieved smile and ran his hands through his hair. It wasn’t too messy considering his eventful night. 

“We should probably get up.” Yuri said, but made no move to act on his words, instead lying back against the pillow and then shifting to rest his head on Viktor’s shoulder. 

“I’d stay here forever if I could,” Viktor inhaled deeply and rubbed his face. Yuri eyes followed the line of his jaw out of the top corner of his eye. Even though Viktor was partially obscured, he was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Yuri! Get up, I need you to clean the indoor baths!” they heard Mari knock on his door down the corridor. Yuri rolled over reluctantly; he’d have to bear the questioning looks he’d receive as soon as he exited from the wrong door. 

“Sorry Makkachin,” he apologised as he nudged his leg from underneath the dogs to get up. He pushed the glasses up his nose as he exited the small room. 

“What time is it, Mari?” he groaned. This had always been a peculiar thing about Mari; she’d manage to stay up until late, drinking and drinking but still managed to be up at the crack of dawn to do her rounds at the B&B. She raised an eyebrow as he leant on the frame of Viktor’s room. 

“What were you doing in there?” she smirked, and crossed her arms across his chest. 

“Nothing,” Yuri replied quickly, “what did you want?” he diverted the conversation before she could trigger his easy embarrassment. She smirked quietly before replying.

“Dad’s not awake yet and judging from last night, he isn’t going to be stirring for a while.” She explained and pulled him along the corridor and down the stairs with her. “I’ll give you a hand.” She added. 

“Thank you.” Yuri smiled, though he had a nagging feeling that she wasn’t satisfied with his answer earlier.   
None of their guests were awake yet as they entered the steamy rooms which held their indoor baths. 

“So,” she chuckled as she opened the door to change the filter for the first pool. Yuri held the lid and flushed a little, predicting what was coming. “My little bro has a boyfriend.” She smiled, almost proud. Her face straightened out, “how far have you gone? I saw the TV in China but goodness knows what goes on behind closed doors.” A sly glint sparked in her eyes. 

“Mari-neechan!” he said, exasperatedly. “We haven’t done anything.” He moaned, playfully pretending to bat her around the head with the metallic lid. 

“I know you’re lying, Yuri. You’ve dreamt about this since you were twelve? Thirteen?” she chuckled. “Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that if you need any advice, I’m an open ear with a lot of wise words.” she softened, and patted her brother’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, Mari-neechan.”

He and Mari had always bene very different, but had always got along well. Their differences was what made them connect: whenever Mari had had issues with friends or guys they’d curl up on her bed and she’d tell him all about it and they’d laugh about how stupid people were. If Yuri’s anxiety played up and he was too tired to calm down by skating, they’d curl up on Yuri’s bed and watch random videos until he’d calmed down enough to sleep. In the months between his failure at the Grand Prix last year and him coming back to Hasetsu she hadn’t failed to let an hour pass without sending him links to funny videos, memes or jokes. Going five years without her was difficult. For his sixteenth birthday, Mari had saved up and bought two tickets to go and see Viktor compete at the Grand Prix in Australia. It was his third year in the senior division of the competition and the first year that he placed on the podium. Watching him shake in front of his eyes…it had been one of the best feelings he’d ever experienced. Viktor had always been placed on a pedestal high above him, for as long as he could remember; untouchable. That day was the first day that he realised that Viktor was human. You could see the emotion through the TV, of course, but seeing the raw emotion of every twist and turn and leap as it happened had caused him to all but cry. That evening he had resolved to share that ice with Viktor someday. He and Mari returned to their hotel room and existed in silence for a while as they took in the residual emotion from the day. Mari searched the internet for replays of the performance. As they re-watched it for the third time, Yuri teared up again. 

“He’s so beautiful,” Mari had breathed. Yuri nodded in equal awe and rolled onto his back with his eyes closed.

“I love him…” he breathed softly as the video went black. Mari’s head had snapped away from the screen and she studied Yuri. He looked back, horrified. He hadn’t meant to say it. He had never meant to say it. Once you say something, you can’t take it back. It’s in each particle’s history once it’s been said. The lead in his stomach almost made him want to vomit. What if she didn’t accept him? He almost hoped that she laughed off what he said. Please don’t hate me, Mari…

“With the number of posters that you have, m’not surprised.” She had rolled over to him and laughed. “My baby bro has a crush!” she howled and teased him and tickled him until he had confessed almost every single secret he had concerning Viktor Nikiforov. He screamed playfully as her hands tickled his sides and begged her to stop through painful laughs. They only stopped when their stomachs ached painfully at the laughed they’d shared and caught their breath between fits of giggles. 

“I was worried you’d hate me for a minute there.” Yuri confessed once they calmed down. Mari’s face dropped. 

“Yuri, you know I’d love you no matter what. You’re my bro and I’m always here for you. And I kinda figured that one out a while ago.” She cackled and he laughed in relief. His sister was a miracle, this only confirmed it. Yeah, they had scratched each other and yelled and broken things but they truly did have each other’s backs. 

They finished cleaning the pools and walked back up to the main living area. They had both grown up with only their rooms as solitude. Their living room, dining room and kitchen was also shared with their guests. It also meant they learned a lot about different cultures growing up. Mari often took an interest in the languages of the foreign guests, asking them to practise their language with her. Her skills always proved useful running the inn and she had considered leaving to study languages in college, but had decided that she didn’t want to leave her family and the inn behind. Yuri needed support in his skating and her parents needed her to help with the Inn. They needed her. She was the most selfless person Yuri knew. He always hated how people in his school year had judged her as being stuck-up and rude because of her hair and the way she looked and her blunt manner of speaking, but she worked hard and yes, she smoked but that was nothing new to the world. No one could judge anything based on that. The elders in Hasetsu were lovely people, they doted on the children of the village but they could have their heads stuck up their asses when it came to a modern, technological age. Mari didn’t care. Yuri knew that more than anyone but it still angered him when someone judged someone before meeting them. In that way, he was hypocritical. He had always judged Viktor to be untouchable but the truth was very different, he knew that now. 

Breakfast was simple cereal today. No one could be bothered to make anything more spectacular. Yuri made himself and Mari a bowl each and they sat with their mother, who was already breaking into some of the leftovers, and ate peacefully. Food had always been a strong bonding point of the Katsuki family. Their sitting together, even in silence meant that Yuri could think and not worry about falling into a dark pit of painful thoughts. This particular morning, it looked like it was their mother who needed taking care of. She had dark rings under her eyes and looked a little pale. 

“Did you have a bit too much fun last night, mum?” Mari asked, pouring out three mugs of coffee. 

“I did, Mari. It was a lot of fun, and I’m very proud of my babies.” She smiled through the headache that was undoubtedly pounding through her head. 

“Maybe you should go back to bed, mum.” Yuri suggested, getting some milk for the coffee for Mari. As he walked around his mother, he squeezed her shoulders in a massage-like hold. 

“I can’t sleep with your dad’s snores,” she laughed half-heartedly. The humour was there but she was clearly tired. 

“You can borrow my bed.” Yuri offered, taking his and Mari’s finished bowls to the sink, as she quickly wiped down the tables before the first guests came downstairs. 

“Yeah! It’s not even dirty either. He spent most of his night in Viktor’s room anyway.” Mari added. Yuri went red and almost dropped the bowl he was washing. His mother made an interested noise, eyebrows raised. 

“Mari-neechan!” he stressed and refused to look at the women, who were definitely sniggered behind him. He groaned in embarrassment. Mari walked up behind him and wafted a bowl of leftovers from last night in front of him. 

“Would you like any oh brother of mine?” she asked sweetly. He turned to glare at her and sprayed some soapy water at her face in response.   
Yuri left the kitchen to go and take a shower. As he walked past Viktor’s room, he stuck his head inside to check on his coach who had fallen back asleep, curling around Makkachin who looked up from resting his head on his master as Yuri’s head entered the room. 

“Look after him, Makkachin.” Yuri murmured and continued on to his room. His suitcase lay on the floor, barely opened. He began to route around for his toiletries bag he’d thrown aside once he had picked up this toothbrush last night. His mother walked into the room. 

“I didn’t know you were in here Yuri. I was going to kip in here for a bit.” She said. 

“Go ahead mum, I’ll just move my suitcase out into the hall to get my stuff and then I’ll leave you be.” He smiled and threw everything he had strewn around back in and wheeled it out. He closed the door behind him and reopened the case, picking out his toiletries once more. 

He showered quickly and finally changed out of his pyjamas and into fresh clothes. He realised that neither he nor Viktor had showered since they got home and felt a little bad for anyone who had been around then; though thinking about it, they had spent an awful lot of time around each other so it didn’t really matter. He decided to sort out his laundry while he had some time on his hands too. He sorted his laundry from his suitcase and loaded it up into the industrial-sized washing machine in the utility room, branching off from the kitchen.

Yuri spotted Viktor putting his shoes on by the front door, leaning on the wall and holding Makkachin’s lead in one hand. Viktor eyed him intensely.

“Yuri, would you like to walk Makkachin with me?” he asked, smiling charmingly as his hair and eyes tracked Yuri resolutely. Mari walked by them and offered Viktor the leftover buns she had offered Yuri earlier to take with him; he accepted them gratefully. Mari smirked as she walked around, reacting to Yuri’s glare.

“Sure.” Yuri replied, eyes still glaring at Mari as he followed her into the kitchen, and passed it to fetch his coat and shoes from the back porch.   
They walked, quietly sunk in their individual thoughts for about half an hour before coming across the beach again. Viktor stopped by the wall separating the road from the beach below and rested his arms on it, looking over the grey sea. He looked almost peaceful if it weren’t for his stormy eyes harbouring dark bags of restlessness. 

“Shall we sit on the beach?” he directed, rather than offered Yuri after a few moments. He seemed oblivious to Yuri’s stare. Today there was little wind as the pair sat down on a slightly risen bank of sand and watched Makkachin run up and down the beach, chasing gulls and finding sticks. Yuri could feel the intensity of Viktor’s thoughts radiate through the air around him. He was so still he could have been mistaken for a convincing wax replica. “You asked about my family.” He stated, moving a finger to rest on his bottom lip. Yuri tore his eyes away from the dog to look at its owner. 

“I did but… I don’t mind if you want to keep it to yourself.” Yuri balanced. He was desperate to know about them and ultimately curious. But a rational part of him was conscious that this was a touchy subject for Viktor and he didn’t want to push him too far and backtrack their relationship.

As he’d watched Viktor and other skaters on TV growing up they all had people about them to support them: most relatives he could recognise due to similar features but Viktor always had Yakov and no one else. He had always wondered why his family had never come to competitions, but had never given it much thought until that reaction. A number of wild possibilities had crossed his mind since he had asked: What if they are mafia? Is Viktor an orphan? Could they not afford to come and see him? Given Yuri’s frankly appalling geography and knowledge of Russia, any seemed plausible. 

“I haven’t told anyone about them except Yakov.” He confessed quietly and looked to the gulls cawing and circling above. Makkachin danced in circles below them, matching their movements; somewhat less gracefully than his master. Viktor took a deep breath. “I ran away to join the circus, basically.” Viktor chuckled somewhat bitterly. Yuri gave him a look of pity. “My parents, well, they were workaholics as I thought for a long time but… it wasn’t healthy. As a baby they had nurses and friends take care of me and by the time I could sufficiently reach the stove I was alone. I’m pretty sure I heard them instruct the carers to not interact with me in any way other than was necessary, but I’m not sure; I was very young.” Viktor’s accent slipped more heavily into his Japanese. “They always flew away; all around the globe to business meetings or holidays, or so they told me. They would spend weeks away and when they came home, it was as if I wasn’t there.” He breathed. “I was so lonely as a child. We were fortunate enough to have a television so I’d watch the skating and ballets when they were on and I’d try to copy them. Often, with my school friends we would go ice-skating on the lake in winter,” he paused and let his head rest on his tucked in legs. “I want to return to that lake someday.” He said, eyes fixed on some point in the distance and face contorted in some kind of painful nostalgia. Yuri crossed his legs and sat patiently. 

“How old were you when they left you?” Yuri asked, unsure whether this was too far. 

“Five.” He stated and closed his eyes. Yuri’s gasp was barely audible. “Anyway,” he dismissed and composed himself, “at school we had an assembly one day and Yakov spoke to us. Every year his skating school goes and visits all of the disadvantaged areas of St. Petersburg and Moscow and would offer anyone who was willing to give it a go, a chance to try and get into his skate school for free. Only one person got through and I was so, so lonely that I had reached the point where it didn’t matter if I failed. I’d already considered running away a thousand times and this was my chance. I had a week until the auditions and I left school as early as I could and practised skating on the lake until late at night. It was nearly the end of winter by this time and the ice was getting thin but I had nothing else. The only money I had was barely enough to feed me, let alone pay for entry into the rink without losing out on so many meals. So I did what I knew, I skated.” Not once did he look at Yuri.” The event was private and free so I had nothing to lose, Yuri. I got in and begged Yakov to take me with him then and there. He wouldn’t take me without seeing my parents, so I took him home. I fed him what I could. I gave him my parents’ bed. He stayed with me for two nights. I was so nervous and fearful that my parents wouldn’t let me go. I could barely sleep.” He sighed, “And then they came home. Yakov explained the situation and they just said: “take him off us, please. Thank you for freeing us from the parasite.”” Viktor’s eyes filled with tears. “That was the last time I saw them and heard from them.” Viktor finished with gritted teeth. 

“Viktor…” Yuri placed a hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t understand how two people could not love the boy who grew into the most wonderful man, in Yuri’s opinion, that had ever set foot on earth. 

“I hate them! I hate-“ Viktor shouted and choked on another tear. He buried his head in his thighs to hide his face from Yuri. Yuri watched him shake and shake, minute after minute. He could scarcely imagine what it would have been like for him to bring himself up, alone and without his parents. Without anybody. So alone in the world and so young, barely understanding what was happening and having to grow up so fast. He wondered if Viktor’s charms came from craving the world’s love to make up for what he never had. 

“You’ll never be alone again Viktor.” Yuri promised and rubbed his back, easing the tension that had built there. “Never again.” He repeated and shifted onto his knees to allow himself to wrap around Viktor protectively. 

A plane flew over the ocean in the distance, luring Yuri’s gaze away from Makkachin to the flying object. The people aboard that plane could be going anywhere, and coming from anywhere. Whatever their situation, it was highly unlikely to have any effect on Yuri. It was equally unlikely that Yuri could have an effect on Viktor. A year ago, he was lost and aimlessly skating Viktor’s program in a desperate struggle to find himself, or some motivation, something which would keep him going. If Viktor were to leave him now, he would be so much more broken than he was last year. 

“I got Makkachin when I was in my last year or two at the Juniors because I was so alone. Yakov bought him for me as we walked to dinner one day: he’s a great coach like that; he took all of his skaters out for dinner once a month to talk over what it was exactly that they had concerns about and as a break from the ice. He changed my life in so many ways and I understand perhaps why he was so upset when I left him to coach you,” Viktor explained, watching his dog run freely. Yuri wilted a little, the shift caused Viktor to look up, “I don’t regret that moment. It was the best decision of my life.” Viktor said solemnly. “Anyway, I will not be going back to Russia unless you want me gone.” Viktor concluded. Yuri nodded in understanding. His brow furrowed in thought. He looked at the natural colds in Viktor’s clothes from his sitting position. Viktor watched his lover process what he had just said. He was amazed that Yuri hadn’t stopped him to walk away at any point. He didn’t know why he was worried about that after all that he and Yuri had shared. He wondered what Yuri thought of him now that he knew where he had come from. He wondered what he was thinking about now. His eyes were searching, though for what, he was not sure. 

“Hasetsu could be your home.” Yuri said quietly after a moment. Viktor made a noise of surprise and mirrored Yuri to look him in the eye. He was shocked. His jaw moved to respond but no sound other than an incoherent creak escaped his throat. He wasn’t going to tear up for a third time in 24 hours. 

“Yuri,” he managed after a minute of opening and closing his mouth. He was struggling to find the words: he knew exactly how he would phrase it in Russian, and could convey his message in broken English but he found it difficult to formulate the correct words in Japanese. He could say them in English and Yuri would understand but it didn’t feel the same. He’d never been told that skating was his home and yet he had made a home in the sport, and yet his time in it was running out but Viktor had taken it the first chance he had because he had no other choice; no matter how temporary it was. But here he was, being offered a permanent home. Somewhere he was welcome unconditionally and… he could help to well up a little. He launched himself onto Yuri and embraced him tightly to hide his face. “I’d love to share my home with you.” He said quietly, “and I’d love to eat pork cutlet bowls with you.” He added with a bittersweet laugh. 

“Okay, we can do that.” Yuri chuckled from underneath Viktor and with their many layers of clothing stopping the heat from penetrating, but unfortunately not doing as successful a job protecting them against the sand which got everywhere, no matter what you did. 

“We should probably actually walk Makkachin some more so he doesn’t wake us up in the middle of the night.” Viktor suggested, rolling off Yuri and onto the soft sand below. Yuri suspected he’d need another shower to get rid of the sand grains that felt like they’d slid uncomfortably into his butt crack. He groaned a little at the little movement which caused him to hyper-sensitively feel the itch of each grain of sand slipping. Internally he prayed that they would take the shorter route back to the inn. If Viktor was experiencing the same discomfort as him, he didn’t let on. 

Viktor looked over to Yuri after his fourth or fifth sigh of discomfort. Had he damaged Yuri’s opinion of him and scared him? He bit his lip a little before looking ahead again. Makkachin’s steady pants grounded him a little; even if Yuri did get sick of him, he’d have Makkachin. He let out a slow breath. In a blink, Yuri’s hand was cradling his own. 

“Oh.” Viktor’s surprise was shown subtly in his motions but his eyes spoke fields of echoing distance. He’d been thinking too much. He saw that now as Yuri smiled at him. He pondered what his life would have been like if he had returned to skating instead of plucking up the courage to coach this beautiful creature who had surpassed all of his expectations. It was a bad habit of his, but he always underestimated things; too often he did that to Yuri, only to have his heart elated again as he nailed his jumps and as he stayed to listen to his darkest moment and just. There was no limit to how much he could be surprised by his precious Katsudon. Whenever he felt them drifting, Yuri would fill the void more vibrantly than before and with renewed intensity. 

He gripped tighter. 

The rest of the week passed in a slow daze. Time seemed to go so fast and yet so slowly at once. Yuri had kept up enough exercise to keep himself in shape, Viktor meeting his every step to get himself back to his peak of fitness. Otherwise, Yuri was helping around the B&B, or simply relaxing. Hasetsu seemed to have returned to normal after celebrating Yuri’s achievements. The world had almost already forgotten him. Maybe not Minami; his never-ending feed of tweets about Yuri and short clips of him practising Yuri’s programs was heart warming, if not a little creepy. Viktor had laughed fondly at Yuri as he scrolled through them. Each day, he would tease Yuri by quoting the tweets. He loved watching his cheeks redden and loved rendering him speechless.   
The Inn was quiet for a Saturday evening. 

“Everyone’s bored of hearing about Yuri. We scared them away.” Mari had laughed, lighting up a cigarette. Viktor’s chuckle had been melodic in his ear, as Yuri leant back in his arms. The TV hummed quietly in the background as the three of them sat around the corner-most table. “You two are so cute you make me sick,” Mari finally said, puffing out another lung-full of smoke. Yuri had long grown used to it and couldn’t imagine Mari without the lingering charcoal in her aura. 

“Does it make you retch at the thought of how I touch your brother?” Viktor had teased in return. Her heavy eyes turned away from the screen to the entwined pair. She raised a dismissive eyebrow.

“I try not to think of it, no.” Mari replied, her voice flat. There were few secrets between Yuri and herself. How could there be with the number of times he’d walked around the back of the Inn to put the trash away and found himself spectator to situations where he had wished he was born blind. Yuri cleared his throat. “Hey Viktor, for the record,” Mari continued, taking another drag, “I will break your legs if you lay a single unwanted finger on Yuri.” Her voice was relaxed but her tone and her dark eyes were piercing beneath the lids. Yuri felt Viktor slacken his grip on Yuri slightly and the gulp of his Adam’s apple shift against his shoulder. 

“Noted.” He replied and quickly reached for his sake. Mari raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Yuri, almost as if to say “this is the dude you’ve chosen? Could be worse.” Yuri rolled her eyes at her, shifting closer into Viktor’s chest.

He looked down to his hand and noticed the smudged writing. His heart skipped a beat. 

“I almost forgot: I’m going down to the rink tomorrow to watch the kids practise.” He said quietly. Viktor made a noise of curiosity. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, leaning over Yuri’s shoulder to look at his hand. He wrapped his arms tighter around Yuri to pull himself forward. Yuri nestled into the movement. 

“Sure. I’ll set an alarm.” Yuri mumbled, mostly to himself. He flicked through his phone, conscious that Viktor’s eyes were trained on his thumb movements.   
He flipped his phone closed, snapping Viktor out of his tired trance. 

“I’m going to head to bed,” Yuri decided, after watching another half-hour of mind-bogglingly boring talk show. He untangled himself for Viktor’s octopus hold and stood. He missed the warmth almost immediately. 

“Good night.” Yuri wished and poked his sister’s shoulder on the way past. Viktor would have got up to join him if it wasn’t for Mari’s scrutinising gaze on him. She lit another cigarette, eyes still on him, daring him to stop her. She took a drag and then offered him the cigarette. He hesitated before taking it from her and taking in the smoky air. As he exhaled, he passed it back to her. It reminded him of late nights talking with his room mates in Russia growing up, and leaning out of their window in the coldest winters sharing a single cigarette they had waited a month for. 

“I guess we all have our guilty pleasure,” she smirked knowingly as the smoke diffused into nothing. Viktor nodded absently. “Anyway, I wasn’t joking when I said I’d ruin you if you hurt Yuri. All he has to do is say the word and you’re as good as dead.” She said darkly. Even if Yuri had dreamed of this man for over a decade, she wasn’t going to let Viktor hurt Yuri no matter how much he loved Viktor.

Yuri felt as though he had never slept so long and hard in his life. The blaring sound of his alarm was nothing new to him and though he had a healthy amount of sleep, he felt like he could go on forever. He covered his head with his pillow in a vain attempt to run from the noise. He ultimately failed and allowed himself to expose himself to the ever more piercing sound and spared himself from it. He groaned and rolled himself onto the floor, picking up his glasses as he stood. He pulled some clothes from his wardrobe and threw them on before heading to breakfast. Viktor’s door was already open and he had vacated his room. He must have heard my alarm. 

He padded slowly downstairs to the kitchen where Viktor sat with a bowl of rice before him. He nodded at Yuri as he walked in and grabbed his own bowl. 

Whereas Yuri had just thrown on temporary clothes, Viktor was in his red tracksuit and was prepared to go jogging at a second’s notice. They ate, listening to the sound of people padding around upstairs and just about getting up. Yuri was used to being awake early and so the view of the sun rising over the horizon was nothing new to him. However in Russia, Viktor’s early morning runs had always taken place in darkness. The sun had always risen in the reflection of the mirrors in the ballet studios in the roof of the rink as he had trained in the mornings. But he had never been able to track its movements away from the horizon as he had run away from his starting point. Now, the slow rise of the sun over Hasetsu made him feel as though he was running faster than the sun. He knew otherwise, but each stride he made opened up the distance as the sun tried and failed to catch up and meet his pace. His muscles screamed, but he had long trained himself to ignore their rebelling fatigue. The rink was in sight across the bridge; he pushed himself across the last stretch, almost tripping to a stop at the bottom of the steps leading up to the rink. He semi-collapsed onto the railing and hung off them in a peculiar position. He panted, catching his breath and watched cars drive past. He coughed; the shame of his state of fitness rattled through his body with each huff. 

He made his way carefully up the steps and entered the ice rink, fully recovered so as to appear calm after his run. I could pass off my flushed cheeks for the cold, he reasoned. Someone he didn’t recognise stood behind the desk; probably a temp to handle the admin that Yuko normally did when she wasn’t training. Her eyes bulged at Viktor’s entrance and she waved him forwards quickly, cheeks on fire. The effect he could have on people sometimes amazed him. He walked around to the rink’s viewing benches and watched as the young skaters took their first hesitant steps onto the ice without being guided. Within the first minute, over half of them were falling over. He spotted Yuri in his blue cardigan helping a young girl up. Viktor’s face lifted in recognition: this must have been the taxi driver’s daughter. 

She was unfazed by her fall and attempted to motivate herself forwards again. Yuri watched her go again, but she slipped in her mimicking a run to get up momentum and fell onto her front. Yuri glided over and picked her up with ease; his rounded edges often made Viktor forget just how strong Yuri was. He then set off slowly ahead of the girl, demonstrating how he was pushing himself forward by using the edged of his blades. She tried a push with her right foot, keeping her left trained forwards on the ice and glided for barely a second. The excitement and rush brought a healthy flush of pride to her cheeks. Yuri applauded with a wide grin. 

“Again?” Viktor could make out Yuri suggesting she try again. She squealed in delight and tried again, her face falling as she slipped a little, but ultimately keeping her balance as she glided across the ice. A wide grin of pride adorned her face again. Viktor smiled from his position on the bench.   
Yuri felt the creep of a pair of eyes on the back of his head and turned to look behind. He scanned the ice and the edge of the rink and his gaze fell onto the familiar silver-head. He smiled and waved to Viktor who raised a hand in acknowledgement. Yu-chan called all of the beginners over to her to conclude the session and dismiss the children from the ice. Viktor waited at the exit of the ice to high-five all of the young skaters as they went to take their boots off. A small gathering of excited parents hovered to his side, all of their eyes on Yuri. He decided to stand back and watch Yuri greet them, the taxi driver at the forefront of the group. Perhaps he has told other people that Yuri has returned to Hasetsu, Viktor mused. He raised a finger to his chin inquisitively. Yuri greeted the familiar man warmly and gushed about his daughter’s skating. Viktor knew he was being polite but his enthusiasm was, to put it in simple terms, adorable. His ears were pink at the attention he was receiving from the parents and he obliged a few with pictures of himself and their children. Yuri Katsuki versus public praise was like watching a confused puppy in a crowd of children, all shoving each other to stroke it. A warm smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“How was your jog here?” Yuri asked, changing into more suitable skating gear. 

“It…has been better,” Viktor replied, covering his eyes with his fringe. Yuri grimaced but didn’t press the matter further. “I’m going to jog back home as well,” Viktor said. His defensive tone suggested to Yuri that he wasn’t happy. Yuri frowned a little but left it at that, grabbing a pair of skates he had put aside for Viktor beforehand. Viktor’s fingers slid his feet into the familiarly tight shoes and engaged in their routine, the motions of tying up the boots were calming and somewhat hypnotic. He felt his brow set a little as he worked through ideas in his head he’d be jotting down as he lived alongside the Katsuki family. Yuri had returned to the rink and was now making slow laps around the clear ice, occasionally turning and skating backwards for a few paces. 

Though Viktor had spent at least half of his waking life on the ice, he felt nervous. He’d not entered the ice as a competitor in just under a year, and the gruelling sweat and blood of other competitors taking the ice alongside him was almost a foreign feeling. Almost. It was a feeling that he had thrived on for years, knowing that he could glide over the ice and over their efforts and feel every second of hard work they’d put in come undone under his feet. It was a selfish part of skating that he’d never quite shaken; a bitterness that he tried to keep at bay. He bit back a frown and eased onto the ice. A tension he didn’t know had been upon his shoulders seemed to have lifted. He loved the ice, but he also loved Yuri, perhaps more so. Growing up, he never thought he could love a person more than he had grown to love ice. He always felt that his faith in humanity had gone as his parents left him, but now he knew that was not true. He had faith in Yuri, and Yurio for that matter. The ice had been a constant throughout his life and nothing would change that, but Yuri had taught him that he himself didn’t need to be ice cold towards the world to live for the ice; a fire could live happily within you and the ice would not melt beneath your feet. On the contrary, watching Yuri circle now almost felt like he was leaving a trail of fire blazing behind him where he cut the ice in a turn.   
Viktor longed to rekindle his own fire. Yuri had been the perfect distraction to help him keep his mind off the thrill of skating, and he had made his distance from the ice not a burden. But now Viktor was welcomed onto the ice as his home again and he would take that opportunity very gladly. A renewed grace in his glide, he made his way across the ice and towards Yuri.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been ageesssssssss!!! Also I am v aware of the deterioration in quality of this fic but I will try edit it once im finished xxx

With the rink free, they eased into practise after their respective breaks. Yuri’s tense high from the Grand Prix had turned into something more relaxed; the fire from the season was there, but on a low burn. He needed to regulate himself for his determination last long enough to complete at least another season. Though he had these harsh thoughts about his own body lasting another season, the soft reassurance that Viktor had almost 4 years on his age and, though his skating was a little rusty from a lack of practise, he still possessed the beauty and grace that he was adored for. Yuri desired that deity-like agelessness. Viktor still wore his icy crown, despite sitting out this season and Yuri was proud of him, but a niggle of competitiveness made him was to knock him off the top and take Yurio with him. In his mind, he saw Yurio and Viktor as more talented and natural skaters than himself and he still had something more to prove, but the close score made him want to kick himself. In weak moments, he caught himself overanalysing his programs to find one mistakes that, if he had smoothed out, he could have won. If only he had gained half a point more on his short program… Yuri squeezed his eyes shut, blocking the thought from obscuring his mind; it was bad enough that he could barely see without his glasses. He watched Viktor’s figure from the side of the rink, as he reacquainted himself with basic steps. Yuri couldn’t help but notice Viktor’s occasional worried glance or querying brow just before he broke into a step sequence. He wondered why Viktor was so on edge all of a sudden.

For Viktor, being his own coach was an interesting experience. He knew it wasn’t really what one could call coaching, but attempting to regulate himself into not casually falling into the habit of trying overtly difficult moves from the off was…frustrating. He was aware that the limits of his own body’s betrayals were closing in with time. He was used to Yakov giving him constant, grating reminders to not flaunt his skills just because he could. Back on his home rink, he had shared it with some, frankly, egoistical maniacs and he had thoroughly enjoyed pissing them off. But here, with Yuri, it felt less like competition and more like they both wanted each other to win, not just themselves. Now, Viktor wasn’t just thinking about solely his own success but also that of Yuri’s. He hadn’t needed to think about it from a competitor’s stance while he was coaching Yuri because it was never relevant. Looking back, he knew he had made the right decision to take a year out. He felt changed, neither for better nor worse; rather as though this was another chapter in his skating career, no matter how short-lived. 

He forced himself to practise basics, attempting to ignore the embarrassment he felt at practising such simple manoeuvers; some of which he could only recall practising regularly at the start of his journey in the senior division. He tried to ignore his pride; he had grown used to regulating it, something Yurio had only discovered how and why it was necessary after his face off with Yuri, before he and Viktor had settled as coach and skater. As much as it humiliated him in regards to his reputation, he knew his body had to start with basics before he could come anywhere near successful with his more customary move set. A pained looked crossed his face as he picked up speed to launch into a triple toe loop. 

A silence from the lack of his skates scraping against the ice came over the room. Viktor forced his eyes to stay open as he held his breath for his landing. His right foot remade contact with the ice, it was a little off but he regained his balance, smoothly skating the pressure of landing the jump off. He exhaled and rubbed his face to smooth out the tension; his fingertips tracing from his cheekbones to his temple and rounding over his jaw to rest at the sides of his neck. He skated over to Yuri and rested against the edge, breathing slowly. His eyes scanned the ice, tracing the journey he had taken through the jump, analysing each moment. Somewhere deep inside, he felt himself sinking into a coldly analytical trance.

He was broken out of his calculating thought track by a hand brushing his cheek. Viktor closed his eyes and leant into the touch. He had found new motivation and inspiration in that touch; this was who he was now and yet, could he balance this emotion with the intensity of both coaching and skating? He opened his eyes to meet those of whose arm it was. As the hand left his face, he caught it and pulled himself in closer to Yuri, their eyes never leaving each other. 

Viktor made to say something, but stopped himself, frowning. It wasn’t aimed at anyone in particular, but it was a set that Yuri recognised as private determination and deep thought derived from a certain pain of longing. Viktor turned to the ice again, hardening again into something more analytical before making to speak again. 

“Yuri,” he began as if he was going to comment on Yuri’s skating; a tone Yuri had grown used to. “May I ask a favour?” he enquired quietly. Yuri straightened up, as was customary when someone you respected gave you the honour of speaking to you, having been raised in this very traditional Japanese town.

“Anything Viktor,” Yuri replied, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. He couldn’t tell whether Viktor was about to suggest they progress their relationship, or regress it, change up their skating routines, for Yuri to coach Viktor in return. Knowing Viktor, anything was possible; he never failed to surprise Yuri. What he did hear took him aback; shocking him into a self-preserving shell: 

“Don’t show any love for me until my skating is on par with what it used to be. Only then when I’m good enough to deserve your praise, Yuri.” Viktor asked. His low voice was a little hoarse but the meaning was clear. Yuri tilted his head. Was it a response to him touching Viktor just then? Or was it a type of motivation for Viktor? Yuri bit his lip, trying to quickly work out what it would entail. Either way, it was what Viktor wanted and he was happy to oblige him, no matter how painful it may be. He nodded his agreement silently and squeezed Viktor’s hands once before letting them go and skating to the right hand half of the rink to practise a few jumps in the centre, allowing Viktor free reign of the edge to practise his flow. 

The idea of this new arrangement began to weigh on Yuri; did this mean he couldn’t sleep beside Viktor anymore? Or did he just mean on the rink? His initial clarity gave way to so many unanswered questions now to add to his previous plethora of internal combustion still pumping away from the final. And now he had the additional worries of not being able to give his love to Viktor, as awkward and stilted as his emotional expressions were, they were his and he wanted to give what he had to the man who was currently spiralling around him, but seeming further away than ever despite being the closest he’d ever been. Yuri bit his lip one more time before forcing himself to focus completely on his skating. It was probably going to be the only thing that would keep him sane as he found himself edging every closer to a black hole of negativity.

They danced around each other in silence for the rest of the afternoon, Yuri trying to pay little attention to Viktor and vice versa. Viktor pondered whether he had made the right choice here: he could feel the tense mood that had settled between him and Yuri over the past few hours, but he wondered whether he could bear it permanently. Perhaps it could be a lead for his next theme? Emotional conflict? Balancing his love for Yuri and his love for skating? A war of focussing on himself against focussing on Yuri raged on in his mind. He had seldom felt such emotion but almost felt nothing at the same time. He dragged himself across the rink one again, even more numb than the ice contacting his bare skin could achieve.

The tense nature of their newly-adapted relationship wore on both of them. They barely spoke. They began jogging separately. They ate separately. Their training had become almost independent and Viktor realised he couldn’t coach Yuri and ask him to alienate him simultaneously. He’d be a fool to not notice Mari’s hostile looks at him as he left the onsen to train, and how her eyes worriedly tracked Yuri. He didn’t know whether Yuri had confided his feelings in Mari but he was also sure that he wouldn’t let Viktor in anything soon. He spent his evening scrolling through Instagram; through pictures of his fellow competitors revving their practises up for next season. He saw Phichit’s name pop up and a selfie of him and his laptop arrange themselves over the screen. On Phichit’s laptop was his Yuri smiling humbly to complete the wishes of his best friend. A tug of longing pulled at Viktor and in a moment of weakness, he got up and opened the door to the next room along. 

“Yuri?” he asked, barely looking as he opened the door. The room was dark and empty. Yuri’s laptop was open but off and his skating bag was abandoned by the door. Viktor sighed and returned to his room; thoughts about where his katsudon had gone plagued his thoughts. But he was broken out of them before he could start weeping on Makkachin.

Yuri had left as soon as he got home. He couldn’t stand to be in the same building as Viktor knowing that he couldn’t curl up next to him and talk about the weather, skating nor watch a movie out of the blue. He had to leave and he desperately wanted some kind of comfort. The rink could give him no more satisfaction once Viktor had left, thought he tried; the casual chat about Yuko’s kids had worn him thin and he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep so desperately, but just…not there. Minako’s snack bar wasn’t an enormous trek away but even as he walked, the distance seemed to weigh on him. He was glad to see her familiar face soften as she saw him enter. 

“Yuri? What are you doing here?” she asked, her good-nature and manners deceiving the room of her concern. Yuri rarely came to her snack bar. She passed him some sake and tended a few other customers before leaning on the bar to talk to him. 

“What’s going on?” she asked, her generally cold exterior giving way to concern for her favourite pupil. Yuri dropped his chin to rest on his hand, the other fiddling with his cup. 

“I don’t know what to do about Viktor.” He sighed, having prepared himself to open up during his walk. Minako frowned. Yuri hadn’t mentioned anything about any trouble in paradise. She poured herself something to drink, and seated herself beside Yuri on a stool and listened closely. “He asked me to distance myself from him unless he achieved something his former-self could do and even though he’s doing fine, brilliantly, I just can’t bring myself to break through the ice and reach out to him.” Yuri sniffed back the tears that threatened to break through. Minako rubbed his shoulder, consolingly. “I miss him so much and I’m worried I’m losing him.” He eventually confessed, a sob choking through him. 

“Shh, Yuri no. Don’t cry.” Minako hummed, “you’ll figure this out Yuri. I’ve seen you two, it’ll be okay.” His wide eyes met her stormy ones and they felt like his childhood, calming him. “I’m going to call Mari, and we’re going to have fun tonight. Take your mind off things.” She smiled, refilling Yuri’s glass with something a little stronger. Yuri didn’t bother asking what it was and downed it as Minako called his sister. He’d sort his problems out tomorrow, he decided, barely noticing his glass being refilled as soon as it was emptied. 

By the time Mari arrived, Yuri was already turning the old juke box in the corner on, much to the amusement of some of the locals and was shrugging all unnecessary clothing off as he began to lose the plot. Whatever Minako had given him was definitely stronger than champagne and she didn’t know whether she had made a mistake or not, either way, this was going to be amusing. Mari walked over the Minako and sat beside her, taking up Yuri’s abandoned glass. She raised an eyebrow at her friend. 

“You called?” she prompted, already knowing why, but she wanted to hear it anyway. 

“Yeah, this could be a very interesting night.” Minako smirked. “I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

Barely two hours had passed and now Yuri was sat in a cubicle in the men’s toilets spewing up his regretful drinking. Internally he was both thankful and resentful of Minako for suggesting this, but also himself for not acknowledging his limits. He sat on the floor, leaning on the toilet and brought his phone out of his pocket. The screen flashed up with the time and some notifications from Instagram; probably Phichit, he decided in his haze and only successfully entered his phone after a third attempt at typing in his passcode. He opened his texts and, out of habit tapped Viktor’s name. He knew he shouldn’t. All the same, he began typing. He felt so shit, it couldn’t get any worse.

Hey ;) 

It was sent and he felt adrenaline flush through him. He suddenly felt a little better and left the toilet, swiping a random bottle from behind the bar and leaving whatever money he had in his pocket in its stead. He slipped out of the bar quietly, or at least, what he perceived as quiet in his drunken state. In a haze he walked down to the beach, occasionally resting against a wall and taking another swig of the alcohol before continuing. He glanced at his phone of out habit and saw Viktor’s name. He stopped. I nearly forgot I messaged him. He chuckled and opened the text. 

Yuri? Are u okay? 

The message taunted him from the screen. Viktor was taunting him; existing just out of reach. He frowned, and sat by the wall separating the levitated road from the beach below. He began to type. 

No, I’m not okay I’m drinking my sorrow away by the beach and the water looks really nice. Shame I can’t s/ 

He left the cursor there and deleted the text. 

Where are you?

The second message was more formal, more concerned. Yuri felt his heart rate pick up. Viktor was worried about him. Viktor hadn’t forgotten about him. He replied simply:

at the beach, naer the sailing clb

Yuri managed to reply, barely. He stood and walked onto the beach, watched the waves break against the beach. Despite his unfocussed concentration, it was still peaceful. He turned the bottle over in his hands and took another gulp. He could see the onsen from here, and if he wasn’t drunk he could have sworn he saw a flash of silver hair dash along the road just outside. Yuri turned back to the sea. A few tears slipped from his eyes as the moon reflected on the broken surface of the water; he didn’t want to see it alone, he wanted to tell Viktor how beautiful it was and then tell Viktor that he was more beautiful than the moon could ever be. It was so big and round and nothing more or less than it was meant to be, Yuri noticed as he looked up to it. It consumed his vision and left him wide-eyes and no longer drunk on the alcohol but on the sight of it. 

In his dazed state, he barely noticed the footsteps behind him. Viktor paused as he watched his beloved Yuri drink and sigh, eyes fixed on the bright moon. He was so beautiful, even though he couldn’t see his face. Viktor didn’t want to lose Yuri; at least not over some stupid cold-hearted decision he had made. His asking Yuri to control when he interacted with Viktor as it seemed natural had been a mistake, he realised that now as he saw the flushed cheeks, tear stains and bottle slowly emptying. How could he have driven Yuri to this? He said nothing but mustered enough composure to sit by Yuri and watch him watch the sky. He must have been really gone to still have not noticed Viktor. Tentatively, he placed a hand on Yuri’s shoulder to alert him of his presence. Yuri’s head turned slowly, his unpredictably focussed gaze landing on Viktor. His expression changed from that of wonder to pained confusion. He blinked and Viktor’s heart sank. 

“I’m sorry Yuri.” He whispered, hand still attached to Yuri’s shoulder. If Yuri’s blank stare was anything to go by, he was either so drunk he couldn’t understand Viktor or he was trying to cover emotions. Viktor looked to his hand and retreated it. “I didn’t think about what I said and it’s impacted both of us for the worse.” He continued with a sigh regardless of whether what he was saying was being understood. Yuri was silent for another moment and Viktor turned to look at the sea, the waves dancing across the surface looking so harmless, though given the right conditions, could kill someone. Their soothing ebb and flow echoing Viktor’s breathing as he tried to remain calm in the current situation. The next thing he heard was a sniffle and then Yuri was sobbing uncontrollably. The levee had broken and he had buried his head between his knees, the bottle shaking violently in his hand. 

“Yuri? Yuri?!” Viktor knelt up in front of Yuri and took his biceps in his hands and removed the bottle so Yuri couldn’t hurt himself with it. “Yuri, breathe.” Viktor attempted to calm Yuri down. His head snapped up to look at Viktor. His sobs choking and stuttering in his throat. Viktor let go of Yuri’s arms and placed his hands on either side of Yuri’s face and pushed himself forwards to rest his lips on Yuri’s forehead. He was clammy, smelt like puke and alcohol and looked like shit; but he was his Yuri and he’d hurt him and he was going to fix him. 

“I’m sorry I let you get like this.” He said, his thumbs stroking away the tears as they fell. Yuri said nothing and the tears kept rolling; Viktor was trying his best to not allow his own tears to show. He held Yuri close to his chest, an arm moving to his back to rub relaxing circles to calm down his katsudon. “It’s okay Yuri, we’ll figure this out.” He promised and kissed the top of his head again. Yuri slowly calmed down and then yawned, still quiet. “Let’s get you in the shower and then to bed hmm?” Viktor said, pulling Yuri up onto his feet, the bottle rolling in a semi-circle. Viktor picked it up and let Yuri lean on him as they walked back home. Judging by Yuri’s inconsistent abilities to stand or not, he assumed that he was drifting in and out of consciousness. 

His state was evidently worse than it had been back at the disastrous Grand Prix Final the year before this; at least Yuri had been capable enough to allow himself to be guided to his room whilst conscious. Every few minutes he would almost collapse onto Viktor, and the force of the ground flying up to almost hit his knees would reawaken him. Viktor idly wondered how much of this he would remember. Though lean, by the time the entrance gate to the onsen came into view, Viktor felt like his arm was about to drop off under Yuri’s weight. 

“We’re nearly there, hang on.” He muttered to Yuri who groaned incoherently in response. Seeing Yuri like this…it made him feel sicker than the green-looking Japanese man currently being guided by him. He leant Yuri up against the post by the door and fumbled in the dark to unlock the door. Yuri slid down and sat, eyes gazing over as his head lolled towards the moonlit courtyard. In that moment, Viktor was loath to move him. Through his drunken state, Yuri could see something, whether beautiful or not, he didn’t know; but Yuri saw something in the image he was seeing. His eyes were becoming more alert and aware. The door of the main house swung open smoothly and Viktor couldn’t wait any longer as he saw Yuri’s head roll onto his shoulder as he made to sleep. 

“No Yuri, not here.” He said, lifting the man up, ignoring his overly-noisy protests. Yuri began to moan loudly as Viktor dragged him inside. For fear of waking up the entire household himself, he refrained from telling Yuri to be quiet and simply covered his mouth with his hand, and raising a finger to his own lips to communicate what he meant. Yuri’s eyes widened, and he nodded in questionable comprehension. Viktor lowered his hand, only to have it taken from him and Yuri, probably in his drunken confidence, pulled him close. His breath hitched at the sudden motion of being caught off guard. Before he had time to adjust to the newly close proximity, Yuri had launched clumsily up the stairs and was dragging Viktor with him. Viktor had no time to question him between trying to not fall over and stopping the door from banging shut behind them, and undoubtedly waking Makkachin. He shot an apologetic look to his dog before he was unceremoniously thrown onto the bed and pinned down. 

In the confines of his room – he had now been given the right to call it his permanent residence – the air was static. He was acutely aware of Yuri staring down at him, and was almost intoxicated by the intensity. Out of habit, he placed his hands on Yuri’s waist to steady him; a slight call of self-preservation hoped that Yuri didn’t puke directly onto his face. 

“Yuri…” he breathed. Makkachin whined in the corner, snapping Viktor out of whatever mind set this drunken version of Yuri had caused him to slip into. “Yuri, you need a shower.” He commanded and reluctantly eased Yuri off him. Yuri looked around, his confused daze returning. “Yuri?” Viktor prompted. Resigned, he gently manhandled Yuri to the shower in the next room along. He was thankful that most of the Katsukis had their rooms on the floor above this and that there were minimal guests. He sat Yuri down on the toilet and locked the door behind them. “Yuri, I need you to get undressed for me.” He said. The moment the words left his mouth and Yuri’s ears pricked up he realised the vagueness of his words. “For the shower.” He clarified and filled one of the empty glasses lining the sink with water and routed around some of the other cupboards adorning the walls for paracetamol. 

Naked, Yuri sidled up behind him and wrapped his arms around Viktor’s waist. 

“M’not getting in the shower without you.” He stubbornly muttered into Viktor’s shoulder blade. Viktor sighed and closed his eyes, defeated. 

“I’ll get in the shower with you if you drink this and take these.” He said, diplomatically handling Yuri’s wildly uncharacteristically demanding nature. Yuri took the pills and water efficiently and turned to the shower, wobbling enough to cause Viktor to prepare to catch him. He turned the shower on for Yuri. 

“Go on in, I’ll be right behind you,” he said, causing Yuri’s face to fall a little. It was pitiful. “I promise.” He added to his clingy partner’s satisfaction.   
He himself removed his clothes, softened by the day’s wear and joined Yuri, pulling the curtain shut behind him. It was funny how often they ended up in the shower together; an amused smiled crossed Viktor’s face. Yuri was stood under the water, looking like what could be closely described as a cat in a bath. Viktor’s amusement was maintained and he reached around Yuri to the various products that lined the shower and the metals baskets that hung around it and squeezed some shower gel over his fingers. Yuri was barely awake, his eyes closed and head hung forwards, allowing the water to hit the back of his neck. Viktor began to rub the soap over his chest and arms. As he scrubbed each new bit of Yuri, he took away the heavy alcoholic stench and the haze that had come with it. Yuri was becoming more responsive with each passing moment and each more disgusted groan at his own current state of being. He turned Yuri around slowly so as to not dizzy him into feeling more ill than he undoubtedly was. 

Viktor held Yuri’s hand as they stepped out of the shower, hyper-aware that he may slip. Yuri ignored his wet state and made a short beeline to the sink where the cup from before was left empty and abandoned. He filled it up and drank the contents. And again. And again. Some of the cold water escaped from the corners of his mouth as he hastily down each cupful, leaving refreshing tracks. He dared a glance in the mirror: his hair was a wet mess and his vision was considerably worse that it normally was. He spied Viktor watching his reflection and turned away from the virtual Viktor to look at the real one. If he was sober, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to bear what Viktor must have thought of him in that moment, but as it was he wasn’t and so he had very little guilt about walking over and allowing himself to be looked after. At least he hadn’t spewed his inner contents on the poor Russian.

They, slowly and consciously quietly, retraced their steps down the corridor. Yuri began making his way to his own room before being pulled back by the gentle force of Viktor’s hand grasping his arm. He nodded towards his own room and Yuri slowly changed course. 

Yuri had missed the neat, open style of Viktor’s room. He had very much so made it his own space in the duration of his stay in Hasetsu: a blend of modern Russian styles on a traditional Japanese base. Surprisingly, it worked very well. Yuri hardly paid a thought to these details though as he cocooned himself in the right half of Viktor’s bed sheets. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and hide away from the world in that moment. He was asleep even before Viktor had slipped in next to him. 

***

The first thing he was aware of was a shuffling sound and paws padding towards wherever Yuri was. Next, he was aware of a scent, almost like apple pie; cinnamon combined and sweet apple. This wasn’t a scent he was familiar with, or at least he hadn’t been recently. And through his enjoyment of the gentle scent a sharp buzz began to form at the centre of his mind. It quickly spread to engulf his head in a confused daze. He groaned and rolled over a little to bury his head in the pillow below, as if it would help him to suffocate the pain. The bed beside him dipped and a hand came to best on the small of his back.

“Yuri? Are you okay?” the familiar Russian came, thick with sleep. Yuri simply groaned in response and attempted to bury his head deeper into the pillow. A low chuckle resonated through the finger tips which rested against his bare skin where the t-shirt had ridden up. It sent a numbing shiver through him, making the pain bearable enough for him to attempt to stomach the brightness of the room. 

“I don’t think I can go to practise today.” He stated, squinting up at Viktor. 

“Really? I’m disappointed in you, Yuri.” Viktor replied, dead-pan. Yuri’s stomach dropped; for a moment he had forgotten about their conflicts and realised he must have stepped over some lines. Before he could begin to implode, Viktor broke into a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay; I think the break is necessary.” He rubbed a soothing pattern into his back. 

Viktor left for a few minutes leaving Yuri to wallow in his regret. 

“Why am I like this, Makkachin? Hmm?” Yuri asked, absently scratching behind the dog’s ear. He sighed. “You’ve never done anything wrong in your life, you precious canine.” Yuri muttered, closing his eyes again to defend his eyes from the offensive brightness coming from the open door. He had thought the room was bright before, the corridor outside was positively blinding. To his left he saw a glass of water and some pain killers. Desperately, Yuri reached over and chugged them down like his life depended on them.

Viktor returned with an assortment of rich breakfast foods on a tray. 

“Treat today like a holiday. We’ll get you recovered from your… episode.” Viktor smiled, placing the tray on the flatter part of the bed and sat cautiously. He piled bit of all of the dishes onto a smaller plate and passed it over to a confused-looking Yuri. Viktor served himself a selection from the dishes he had helped Hiroko to make and chewed thoughtfully, unheedingly gazing at Yuri. 

“We need to talk about your themes for next season. Any ideas?” Viktor mused. Yuri thought quietly for a moment. 

“Regretful decision making. That’d be a great theme to get people interested; is relatable.” Yuri muttered bitterly, and poked some of the omelette with his chop sticks. Viktor threw his head back in a melodic laugh. Through Yuri’s headache it sounded like heaven, except that it was a set of waves and his eardrum was very much in disagreement with vibrating at this point in time. “To be honest, I haven’t really thought about it.” Yuri admitted, concerned with the growing elephant in the room. He looked away from Viktor and tried to focus intently on the food before him. Either the pain killers were ineffective or they simply hadn’t kicked in yet. 

Viktor noticed Yuri drawing back into himself. A wave of guilt washed over him as he recalled why they were in this situation in the first place. Viktor had made a decision based on his own selfish needs and his habit of working alone whilst skating. What he hadn’t realised was to what extent the impact on Yuri would be. He almost didn’t want to admit it, but he had made a huge mistake in letting them drift. Each waking minute of the past few weeks he was lying awake, trying to focus on skating, trying to focus on not letting himself re-delve into the past as he had done so for Yuri but each thought lead to Yuri. In everything he did, he could somehow relate something back to Yuri. It was impossible to shake the acknowledgment of his existence and clear pain while he was hardly any further than the next room along. And why, Viktor wondered, would he disallow himself to spend time and share his emotions with the man that he loved. He had said it himself; there were new emotions flowing through him and Yuri that he could use for his skating as well as simply enjoying them for what they are.

“I’m sorry, Yuri.” He whispered to the cold silence of the room. “I’m sorry for letting you get away from me. I’m sorry for not realising the impact of what I was asking from you. I’m your coach anyway, not the other way around. God, just,” he inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing a hand over his face to remove the liquid which was stinging the corners of his eyes.

Yuri blinked. Through his hazy mind he understood with uncanny clarity what Viktor was saying. A weight he didn’t realise he was bearing suddenly seemed to lift. 

“So, this isn’t some kind of way to get rid of me?” Yuri asked, voicing the anxiety that had been building up inside him. 

“No. Of course not, Yuri. I never want to get rid of you.” Viktor assured. The semi-accusation stung, but the fact that Yuri hadn’t started to hit him outweighed that. A watery smile broke over Yuri’s face and he laughed a little. Slowly he reached over to Viktor. 

“Does this mean that I can do this again?” he patted the top of Viktor’s head once. Viktor nodded, savouring the understanding that passed through the motion. A pure happiness spread over Yuri’s features. It was intoxicating; however it was quickly replaced by a wince. No amount of emotional resolution could cure a hangover. 

They soon abandoned the tray on the floor, leaving only food that was Makkachin-friendly in case the dog in question decided to munch. With the obstacle of potentially knocking food all over the bed gone, Yuri happily pulled himself up, closer to Viktor. They legs entangled and Viktor laughed in happy disbelief at the feeling of Yuri’s toe tracing the arch of his foot. 

“I’ve missed this. I’m really sorry for being such a stubborn, pig-headed…pig.” Viktor stuttered out. Yuri fixed him with a studious gaze, brows furrowed and jaw tight. 

“It’s okay, Viktor.” He promised and moved closer, into Viktor space. Their noses brushed lightly. Viktor couldn’t resist; not with Yuri like this. He closed the remaining distance with lightning efficiency and placed a kiss to Yuri’s lips. 

“Hmm, at least you were sober for that.” Viktor smirked. Yuri groaned in embarrassment and lightly flicked Viktor’s shoulder in annoyance. He removed himself from the bed and stumbled towards the door. Yuri turned back to Viktor. 

“I’m going to the springs, are you coming?” he asked. Viktor didn’t need to think about it twice.


End file.
